Requiem of a Dream
by Daenerys Malfoy
Summary: Harry Potter never envisioned having kids, hell he didn’t even know if he would live long enough to dream about them. Unfortunately for him, Fate has different plans and when Draco Malfoy appears on his doorstep with a seven month old baby...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Harry Potter, I am ****not**** making any money off of this. I am doing this purely for my own entertainment…and hopefully because others enjoy reading this!**

**Author: Daenerys Malfoy**

**Title:**_ Requiem for a Dream_

**Pairings: **HP/DM + More**!**

**Universe: **_Canon through OotP_**. **

**Warnings: Slash! Mild gore. **

**Story Notes:** For the purposes of this story, Lucius Malfoy has been released from Azkaban. . Enjoy!

**Summary: **Harry Potter never envisioned having kids, hell he didn't even know if he would live long enough to dream about them. Unfortunately for him, Fate has different plans and when Draco Malfoy appears on his doorstep with a six month old baby claiming to be theirs well…things get a bit…interesting.

* * *

_Requiem for a Dream_

**Chapter One**

**-o-1-o-**

Draco Malfoy was not the bravest student of his year. No, he preferred self-preservation to needless heroics. This is not to say that he was a coward, not in the least. He simply did not like to jump into situations he could not retreat from. He was, above all else, a realist. He knew when to back down and when to up the ante, so to speak. Being a Malfoy, Draco was a very skilled duelist and a very powerful wizard. What he wasn't however, was stupid.

"Which is exactly what this plan is…" He murmured as he gracefully made his way towards the blue drawing room on the third floor of his manor. "Stupid!"

Being a…smaller than average bloke, Draco found it quite easy to slip from shadow to shadow, nook to nook as he calmly made his way towards the hidden stairwell beside the entrance to the blue drawing room.

"Draco?"

Freezing, Draco turned swiftly and smiled congenially at his mother.

"Hello Mother," he said with a small bow in her direction. She smiled at him tightly, glancing around with a nervous air that could only be seen by those close to her.

"Draco," she said again. "Are you…tonight?" She finally managed.

Nodding, Draco took a deep breath and in two strides stood before her. "Tonight Mother," he whispered softly. She nodded, back straightening and lips firming.

"And your father?"

"Will hold the Dark Lord off for as long as he can." He replied with a small smile. She nodded and raised her hand. Softly she grazed the back of her hand against his cheek, eyes misting with unshed tears.

"Be careful Dragon," she whispered. Draco's eyes widened fractionally. He couldn't help the small intake of breath as he stared into his mothers light blue eyes. She hadn't called him _that_ since he was seven years old.

"I will Mother," he murmured while placing a soft kiss on her cheek. With one last, lingering look, she nodded and stepped back, assuming the cold mask of indifference she was so well known for.

"Hurry now," he heard her say as he stepped back into the hidden stairwell. "Please my Dragon, get out of here. Both of you, alive and well…" And then she was gone from view and he was alone on the dark passageway. With a shaky sigh, Draco strengthened his resolve and headed down the steps, silently counting them as he went.

On the twenty seventh step, he turned to the right and stepped through the seemingly solid wall. He paused, listening, as he appeared in a dark niche behind the statue of a lascivious siren.

"…s'alright, I can do it!" The unmistakable drunken drawl of Antonin Dolohov sounded down the corridor outside his hiding spot and Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes. _Dolohov escaped from Azkaban _again_, why do we have a prison if we can't keep criminals in? For that matter, why do we have a Minister for Magic…_he thought snidely. Peeking around the corner, he caught sight of the thin, balding figure that was Dolohov, and another short and stocky figure that Draco realized was Peter Pettigrew. His lip curled up in disgust as he eyed the obsequious rat. Draco knew Pettigrew's history, and were it not for the fact that he was Voldemort's favorite servant, Draco would have hexed the balding man five ways to Sunday. _How dare that back-stabbing filth enter our home?_ Draco had thought when Pettigrew first arrived.

Despite the fact that it was Potter's father and his lot Pettigrew had betrayed, the fact remained that Pettigrew had sold out his closest friends and for what? Draco shook his head as he eyed the two. In his book, the only thing Pettigrew deserved was a session with his father in the torture chamber, and a festering disease or two.

_Despicable, _he thought as the two passed his hidden alcove. _To think, we are allowing this filth in our home_. His ancestors, (minus Grandfather Abraxas of course) were rolling, _thrashing_ more like, in their graves.

"If you two are done dawdling in my halls, I believe you had a task to fulfill?"

Draco's breath hitched as his fathers unmistakable cold drawl sounded throughout the corridor. He strode into view, cane clicking against the marble floor, hair gleaming in the pale light from the torches.

"Er… Mr. Malfoy, right." Pettigrew mumbled, eyes and head downcast. From his hiding place, Draco saw his fathers lip curl in disgust as he stared down his nose at the small, trembling man.

"Well then?" He continued. The two hesitated for only a moment, and then were off, swiftly moving through the halls.

Draco slipped out of the niche and waited for his father to address him.

"Draco," he said. "Are you ready?"

Draco nodded, staring into grey eyes almost identical to his own.

"I…" Lucius hesitated, something he never did, and shook his head. "Be careful son." He whispered, standing directly in front of Draco.

Draco nodded, a bit shocked. Lucius nodded, staring down on him. Slowly, he lifted a hand and placed it on Draco's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "I am very proud of you," he murmured.

"I-thank you, Father." Draco murmured, eyes misting with the beginnings of tears. Nodding brusquely, Lucius stepped back gripped his cane firmly.

"Go," he muttered, "I will hold him off for as long as I can."

Draco nodded, already slipping past his father. "Be careful," he murmured as he passed.

Back turned, he did not see the smirk on his father's face, or else he would have cautioned his father not to do anything stupid, as it were, he did not see the sparkling glee that sprang in the once cold grey eyes, or the beginnings of a small, dangerous smile as Lucius Malfoy firmly gripped his snake-headed cane. Back turned, he missed the unhidden glee of an unwilling servant ready to thoroughly damage and quite possibly destroy a detestable master.

**-o-o-**

Draco slipped passed the stunned guards without a backward glance, and cautiously made his way into the dark room. He wasn't sure what wards Voldemort had placed on this room, but he could not feel any latent magic or traps, concealed or otherwise.

Hurriedly, he rushed to the only piece of furniture in the otherwise bare room. A luxurious, wooden crib with dark green velvet lining. It had been his when he was a child, and now it held his son.

Without making a sound, he rushed to the crib and carefully picked up the small bundle held therein. The baby woke, but did not make a sound. He had never uttered more sound than was necessary, and was essentially a very quiet child.

The small baby stared at Draco with solemn, vibrant green eyes and reached out to touch his cheek. He smiled then, a soft smile that showed off pink gums with barely discernable teeth peeking through, and then wrapped small arms around his neck. Draco sighed happily, taking a moment to rock the small bundle in his arms.

"We're getting away from here…" He muttered, eyes closed as he rubbed his son's back soothingly. "I'm taking you to meet your other father…" He said with a bit of a hitch.

With a reluctant sigh, Draco grabbed a small green blanket with golden snitches flying around its surface from the crib and, after shrinking and pocketing the large piece of furniture, hurriedly left the room.

Taking a hidden corridor, he made his way to the atrium, almost sighing in relief as the tall, thick statues of Athena, the Greek Goddess, came into view. It was the nearest exit and the one nobody ever watched. He snorted, _nobody goes through the front door anymore_.

"Almost there…" He murmured into his quiet son's ear. The baby simply sighed and rubbed one soft cheek against his own.

"Almo-"

"Malfoy…?"

Stopping, Draco stared in absolute horror as Antonin Dolohov's stooped figure appeared before the entrance hall door.

"What-what d'ya think yer doing?" He slurred, eyes squinting as he tried to focus on Draco's form.

"Is that…" he paused, stumbling forward, eyes widening. Suddenly his wand was out and focused, albeit shakily on Draco's form. "Can't have you doing that…" He murmured.

"I do believe, Mr. Dolohov, that this is not your place."

Draco's eyes widened as his mother's lithe frame stepped from the shadows.

"Narcissa…" Dolohov muttered.

His mother raised her wand, eyes narrowed and mouth firm, she only glanced at him once and signaled with her eyes that it was time for him to make his escape, and then her focus was on Dolohov and the fast approaching purple, zigzagging curse sent her way.

"_Protego_!" She whispered, a shield jumped in front of her and that was the last Draco saw before he ran.

And ran and ran and ran, until he was past the Apparation point. Glancing back only once, Draco saw, with no small amount of horror that his entire house, his home, was up in flames.

**-x-x-**

Harry Potter was enjoying a quiet, peaceful evening at the Dursley's when he heard the unmistakable sound of somebody apparating into his backyard. Thankfully, his relatives were out of town for the weekend and would not be back until tomorrow night.

Grabbing his wand, and after a moments hesitation, a flashlight, Harry leapt to his feet and rushed to the backdoor. Peeking out the small window and seeing nothing, Harry decided to venture into the small backyard and hope that it was simply an Order member, come to check up on him.

Flipping the flashlight switch, he peered into the dark backyard.

"Hello?"

There was a small groan, and a bit of a whimper. Swerving the flashlight towards the sound, Harry caught a glint of blonde and had to cover his mouth in surprise when Draco Malfoy stepped into the flimsy light of the flashlight.

"_Malfoy_?"

The boy stumbled slightly, grasping something closely to his chest.

"P-Potter…thank god!" He slowly made his way towards Harry, who was standing in complete shock with nothing more than a pair of sweatpants on, and leaned heavily against the open door.

"I need…can I come in?"

"What the hell?" Harry murmured, staring down on the pale boy in absolute shock.

"Its cold out here Potter, and we aren't exactly dressed for it…" He drawled. Harry shivered despite himself and, after a moments hesitation, allowed the boy to enter.

"What do you mean 'we'? And how did you _find_ me?"

Draco, who was standing in the living room, eyeing the room with no little amount of disgust, turned to face him his face now void of any and all emotion.

Harry, wand still out, eyed him speculatively for a moment, wondering in the silence why he had allowed _Draco Malfoy_ of all people into his home. _Its not like I can't take him if he tries anything funny…_he thought as he watched the boy calmly sit. Now in the light, Harry noticed that Malfoy looked a bit haggard and drawn. Firmly gripped against his chest was a bundle of…_something_, wrapped in a Slytherin green blanket with golden snitches.

It moved then, and a small arm poked out, followed by a small blonde head. Harry gasped, almost dropping his wand in shock.

"I-is…th-that a _baby_ Malfoy!?" He screamed.

Draco looked quite amused and smirked at him lazily, "indeed." He murmured, eyeing Harry critically.

"Alright Malfoy, you've got some serious explaining to do. Start with why you're here." Harry said firmly, gripping his wand. Draco seemed to slump slightly in his seat, and sighed heavily.

"I…" he hesitated, and that alone let Harry know things were quite serious. "This is my…son." He finally murmured. Harry's eyes widened almost comically as he dropped into the nearest armchair.

"Your…_son_?"

Draco nodded curtly, then pulled the blanket away from the small baby and turned him to face Harry. Vibrant green eyes, almost a mirror reflection of his own peered up at him solemnly as Draco took a deep breath.

"Right, mine and…well yours."

There was silence, and then, "what kind of sick joke are you playing at Malfoy?" Harry asked furiously.

Draco shook his head grey eyes pleading with Harry to understand. "Listen Potter, I didn't…its…well." He took a deep breath, pulling the small boy further into his embrace.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning. My seventeenth birthday was the fifth of June and on that day the Dark Lord called for my father to bring me to him for a…meeting of sorts." Draco took another deep breath, before staring intently into Harry's eyes. "It was never my intention to follow Riddle, yes I know all about the Dark Lords background," Draco muttered at Harry's surprised, border-line incredulous look. "So you can imagine my surprise when I found out that he was nothing more than a half-blooded lunatic. Anyway, I…well my family is in possession of a rare talent, something that Riddle wants but can't have because it has to be freely given. My father will not give it to him, and when he found that I would not either, he…well he didn't seem so surprised, in fact, he seemed rather pleased."

Draco took another deep breath, and Harry found himself dreading what would be said next.

"He informed me, and my father, that our cooperation was not needed since he had my heir and would raise him himself to attain our…talent. I scoffed of course, and told him that I had _no_ heir. My father however, paled." Draco shivered, though not from cold. "I can remember that instance clearly. He paled and his grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. I remember feeling dread…horrifyingly acute dread. I knew something was wrong.

"Pettigrew," Draco spat the name out with a disgust that Harry thought only he felt towards the rat-like man, and clutched onto his son tighter. "Brought out a small bundle and thrust it into Riddle's…hands. When he…when he took off the blanket and I saw the blonde hair and…his face," Draco paused, shaking his head. "I knew he was mine but…" he paused, shaking his head again.

"Riddle told us that he used some of my blood, blood he took from me on my 16th birthday, and the blood of someone else, someone powerful to create him. I didn't know what to do…" Draco whispered quietly, now staring at the floor. "He told us he was four months old, born on February 14th, and that…that he was showing early signs of having our…talent.

"He dismissed us after that, and my father and I went straight home and into his study. After calling mother, we…told her what happened. She – I've never seen mother so angry before," he smirked at that, a small, fond smirk that Harry had never seen before.

Rising, Draco began pacing, rocking the small boy as he did so.

"What Riddle doesn't know, is that when a Malfoy heir has a child, a bond is formed, magical and paternal that allows for all wards, and such to recognize him, or her, as a possible heir. There is also…the er, other parental figure is bonded to the child as well, and subsequently to the er…other paternal figure. There is more to it, but essentially, it not only signifies him as a Malfoy but allows for the non-Malfoy parent figure to have a stake in the Malfoy assets, and allowance through the wards so that the child can be cared for."

"Wait," Harry said, interrupting Draco. "If all of this happens, why didn't you know you had a kid?" He didn't want to think of the implications of him being the other parental figure, that was a bit _too_ much to take in right now.

"Because the bond is only activated once the Malfoy parent acknowledges the child. It was a precaution that stopped bastards and gold-digging wenches from trying to claim a stake in our fortune. I didn't know about my son until Riddle brought me before him…and even then I didn't formally acknowledge he was mine until we had a…plan."

"What?"

"I'm trying to get there…" Draco muttered dryly. Harry huffed and motioned for him to continue.

"My father had an idea of who the other…parental figure was, but to be sure I had to acknowledge Tristan, that's his name by the way, as mine so we held off on that until we could be sure."

"Sure of what?"

"That we could get away from Riddle…"

"You _defected_?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not…precisely but sure, if that's what you want to call it. Once I acknowledged Tristan as mine, he appeared on the family tapestry and so did…you, as the father." Draco paused as if waiting for Harry's reaction, but Harry could only stare at him blankly, his mind not able to wrap around the prospect of having a kid, with _Malfoy_ of all people.

"My father suspected that you were the other father, because Riddle had been raving about a plan to get to you for quite some time, and something about…I don't know thanking your mother. I figured that one out later…" He mumbled.

Harry's jaw clenched furiously as his fingers dug into the leather armrests of the chair. _That-that bastard doesn't deserve to speak about my mother! _He thought. Not for the first time, he eagerly pictured ripping Voldemort to tiny shreds using only a spoon. He wasn't quite sure how he would accomplish this feat, but he knew that he was more than willing to try.

"How?" He finally managed through clenched teeth.

Draco took another deep breath and smoothed back Tristan's platinum blonde curls.

"Your mother, it would seem, was a very adept potions maker." Harry nodded, a tiny proud smile worming its way onto his face.

"There have always been ways for same-sex couples to have children in the Wizarding world. The most common being the use of a surrogate mother. However, there were times when _that_ would dissolve into a rather sticky situation, with the surrogate unwilling to give up the child and running off. There was also the fact that…technically, the child was _really_ the child of only one of the parents and anther woman.

Your mother was able to invent a potion that took the DNA of the couple wishing for a child, and simply placed it inside of a woman who, after taking a potion which triggered the growth of an embryo, would carry it to term. The child would have nothing of the mother in him or her, and the Carrier, as they're sometimes called, has no ties to the child."

Harry's eyes widened. _My…_mother_ created something like that? Bloody hell_, he thought.

"Apparently, Riddle had a vial of your blood; I don't even want to know where he got that from."

Harry's eyes narrowed as an image of a graveyard pushed to forefront of his mind, unbidden. _The Tri-Wizard tournament…_he thought, with a slight bit of nausea.

"Go on…" He croaked hoarsely. Draco eyed him before nodding and continuing his tale.

"When he realized that he wasn't going to obtain my father or mines cooperation with the use of our…talent, he decided that he would make himself a Malfoy heir, and through him gain control of our talent. With this idea, came his yearning for his _own_ heir, and he wanted it to be powerful. So…I suppose he chose you."

"Why didn't he just use his _own_ blood?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. Draco shrugged.

"I don't know. I think he gets some sort of sick, perverse pleasure from raising the son of his enemy. I am sure he would have tried to use Tristan against you…somehow. I'm not quite sure _how_."

Harry nodded. That sounded like Voldemort. Sick, perverse, and twisted, without making any sort of sense.

"Anyway, we decided that we had to get Tristan away from Voldemort. My family has never been the loyal little followers everyone seems to think we are."

"Sure as hell fooled me…" Harry muttered.

Draco shrugged, "appearances Potter, appearances. It isn't in us to kiss someone else's robes, you should know by now that we prefer people bowing to us."

"Then why _does_ your father follow him?"

Draco sighed, not looking at Harry. "I…maybe I'll tell you some other time."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever…just…keep going."

"My father invited Riddle to our house so that we had easier access to Tristan, and then it was simply a matter of waiting for the opportune time to snatch Tristan and leave. That just happened to be tonight."

"How did you find me? How did you get past the wards?"

Draco nodded towards a sleepy eyed Tristan. "You are related to him by blood, so it was just a matter of tracking you through him…"

Breathing heavily through his nose, Harry leaned back in the armchair, staring at Draco and Tristan without expression.

With the pale blonde hair, vibrant green eyes, high cheekbones and fair, but not pale skin…Tristan was the perfect blend between the two of them, and Harry found himself at a loss for words. It didn't help that Tristan's hair was as messy as Harry's was, although it looked a bit more curly.

_Story of my life,_ he thought morosely as he stared into green eyes almost identical to his own. _Fate always likes to play with me, I don't think I'll ever be able to live my life the way I want to_.

Draco was fidgeting on the couch across from him, absently toying with the green blanket.

"Can I…can I hold him?" Harry finally asked. Draco eyed him warily before standing and walking towards him. When he stood directly in front of him, he placed Tristan in his lap and stepped back.

Harry eyed the little boy curiously, placing his hands on his back to help him sit up.

"How old is he?"

"Nearly seven months." Draco said fondly, ruffling the platinum blonde curls, messing up the already helpless mop of locks.

Harry, still staring at the small toddler, could only gape when he reached out and grasped at his cheeks. Glancing at Draco, he saw the other boy chuckling silently.

"He's just trying to…feel you. I guess he recognizes you as his dad because he doesn't let _anybody_ else hold him, not even my mother."

"Oh…" Harry said dumbly.

The small baby tried to stand, to which Harry helped and supported him as they stared at one another. Suddenly, Tristan smiled and leaned forward, rubbing his cheek against Harry's own.

"What do I do?" Harry asked in an almost near panic.

Draco chuckled again, a warm sound that Harry found he enjoyed. "Just hold him Potter."

Hesitantly, Harry wrapped his arm around the small babe and began rocking him. He felt, more than heard, the small yawn and started when a small blonde head rested itself against his shoulder.

"He's had a rough night…" Draco muttered, still standing.

"Why isn't he…crying or anything?"

"He's a very…quiet child." Draco mumbled. "He doesn't make much noise, unless he's with me and he doesn't cry much unless nobodies around except me…"

Harry quirked an eyebrow, staring at the small blonde head, "I see…"

Draco shrugged, yawning.

"I uh…I guess you can stay here." Draco nodded, frowning as he surveyed the room. "What happened to your parents?"

Harry almost regretted the question when Draco tensed, and closed his eyes.

"I'm…not quite sure. The last I saw, my home was up in flames."

Harry did not have a response to this, and could only nod and look away. Despite everything, he felt an odd sort of sympathy rise for the pale blonde before him. Malfoy was, at the very least, very prideful of his family. It was something Harry knew after six years of…acquaintance with the boy. He put his family before anything and everything.

"You can sleep in my room…" He mumbled, getting up and walking towards his room. Tristan's weight in his arms was…unusual, out of place, and made him feel a bit awkward. He didn't know the first thing about raising a child, and now he was suddenly a father. _I'll think about that later…_he thought as he opened the door for Draco.

"Its not much but…" Shrugging he flipped the switch and allowed Draco to enter. Without a word, the other boy pulled something out of his pocket and unshrunk it. A very expensive looking crib stood in the middle of his room, lined with dark green velvet and padded with a soft, thick cream blanket.

"Very…nice."

Walking over, Harry placed the little boy inside, staring down on the little blonde head blankly.

"This is so…surreal."

Draco snorted, plopping down on Harry's bed. Harry blinked curiously, watching as the other boy grabbed his pillow and settled into the comforter.

"Oh…damnit." Draco muttered. Sitting up, he dug into the pockets of his robe and pulled out several small, shrunken items.

With deft wand movements, he unshrunk the parcels revealing a diaper bag and three duffle bags filled with, what Harry could only assume, were clothes.

Harry gaped as the bags grew, eyes widening as they fell with a soft 'thunk' to his floor.

"Did you bring your _entire_ wardrobe?" he asked incredulously as the large bags settled into a corner of the room. They were _large_, and _full_, almost bursting at the seams. Draco shrugged and once again settled on his bed.

"Only what was necessary…" came the muffled reply. Harry shook his head and, after one more disbelieving look, exited the room.

**-o-o-**

Sitting in the living room once more, Harry Potter was experiencing a bit of a panic attack. In less than two hours, his entire life had, once again, been turned upside down.

Having his former archrival (notwithstanding the sixth year truce between the two), suddenly appear at his relative's home and carrying a child he claimed was theirs was…to say the least, disconcerting at best. However, having dealt with life-altering situations his entire life, Harry had learned to take things in stride.

This did not mean, however, that he wasn't up for a bit of hair-pulling, pillow-throwing bout of furious pacing. He could feel his anger and helplessness rise, and knew without a doubt that soon his magic would be out of control and his relatives immaculate living room would resemble a war zone.

A crash, and the sound of glass shattering on tile flooring alerted him to the first furious, magic-induced incident. With a growl worthy of a werewolf, Harry stalked towards the fallen vase and, with a furious wave of his wand, repaired the 'priceless' urn. Of course, in his state of wild, raging fury and out of control magic, he overshot his reparation, and the porcelain urn shot up into the air, shattering once more against the ceiling.

"Oh for the love of!" Repairing the vase once _again_, which in Harry's honest opinion was a hideous work of 'art' and should be hidden in the darkest alcove of the house and _not_ proudly displayed on the top of the fireplace, firmly grasped it and sat it _gently_ back into its proper place.

The lull in pacing, had allowed his wayward magic to calm somewhat, and now Harry simply sat slumped in his uncle's favorite armchair, head cradled in his hands.

His life, it would seem, was taking another one of those steep nosedives into the very pits of hell. He could find no other way to describe it. His sixth year at Hogwarts had been hell. He'd fought with his best friends constantly, to the point where halfway during the year they'd split up. He hadn't talked to Ron since and only occasionally spoke with Hermione. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order had hounded him about 'training', which meant every free moment of his life he'd spent with some random Order member going over hexes, curses, counter-curses and other forms of magic. It didn't help that on his 17th birthday, his power had rose tremendously, which Dumbledore assured him was part of a wizards 'coming of age'. He couldn't control it, and the more he tried the harder things got. He had taken to simply not feeling, because it seemed anytime his emotions became too extreme, things happened. Vases broke; random objects began levitating etcetera, etcetera.

The only bright spot in this seemingly downwards spiral into absolute darkness was the Dursleys, as odd a thought as that was. They had taken to leaving him alone during this summer. They knew that this was the last summer they would ever have to see him again, and figured it would be easier to simply leave the house periodically in the hopes that when they returned he would be gone. It always made Harry laugh when they returned from one of their trips to find him still there. Vernon would scowl furiously while Petunia's lips would pinch dangerously over her horse-like teeth, and her thin face would redden and inflate to extreme proportions.

Despite this…reprieve from his family, Harry would have given anything for things to be as they once were, for Hermione, Ron and he to be the inseparable trio once more. He wished for the illusions he'd once held about life to still be true, wished that that thin veneer of black and white, good v. evil still held.

Harry was never one to complain unduly, but even he had a breaking point. Being a father at barely seventeen and a _virgin_ at that…well that was perhaps his long overdue breaking point.

"Potter."

Lifting his head, Harry eyed Malfoy warily as he entered the small living room. He was now dressed in a pair of silk pajamas, which were unsurprisingly black. Harry idly wondered if he had ever seen the other boy in anything _other_ than black.

"Is there something you need?"

"We need to talk."

Harry sighed, leaning back in the armchair in resignation.

"…Fine."

"Will you…I mean do you accept that Tristan is yours as well?"

Harry snorted, "I haven't gotten around to that just yet. Still trying to figure out why you're in my muggle relative's house."

"I have proof…" That being said, he handed Harry a piece of parchment. Opening it, Harry noted with a small amount of surprise that it was the Malfoy Family Tree, or at least a replica thereof.

Glowing gold, were the names Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter and Tristan Malfoy. Harry and Draco were not connected with a spousal line; however, they were connected through Tristan with a gold parental line.

"Wonderful…" Harry muttered sardonically.

Draco pulled out a small vial of blood and dangled it in front of Harry.

"This is a vial of Tristan's blood…"

"How do I know that?" Harry cut in.

Draco huffed, before muttering something under is breath. Waving his wand, ghostly letters appeared above the small vial reading: _Blood of Tristan Malfoy._ Harry mumbled something under his breath, but Draco didn't catch it and simply kept going.

"We can do a paternity test, if you don't believe me. I'll just need a bit of your blood."

"You think I'm going to give you some of my _blood_? That's how we got into this mess in the first place!"

"I'm just going to prove to you that Tristan's yours Potter, I don't care what you do with your blood after that…"

Harry glared at him before cautiously sticking out an arm.

"Don't try anything funny Malfoy…I mean it…" Harry said, fingering his own wand. Draco rolled his eyes and waved his wand, mumbling something Harry didn't catch.

A thin stream of blood rose from his arm, painlessly much to Harry's relief, and into a conjured vial. After a silent period of five minutes and complex wand maneuvering on Draco's part, a golden thread rose from the vial containing Harry's blood and the vial containing Tristan's blood. Along this glowing, golden arc rose the words: _Relationship: Father_, and it was at this moment that Harry collapsed in a dead faint.

**-x-x-**

Narcissa Malfoy was, if nothing else, a mother, and with this came all the extra emotional baggage that that title seemed to conjure, including a fierce, pure love for her only son. While she hadn't had the best childhood, Narcissa was very much all about family. She had never liked the Dark Lord, and resented the fact that her husband and son were forced to follow in his abysmally dirty footsteps. Her only condolence being that Draco had not yet received the Dark Mark. Ghastly thing that.

As it were, standing in the remains of what had once been a beautiful manor, Narcissa felt her revulsion and hate for the man who called himself a 'Dark Lord' rise exponentially. Not only had he sullied her exceptionally beautiful home with his presence, but also had the _gall_ to burn it down after he _fled_. For one insane moment, Narcissa had the urge to transform into her animagus form and hunt the bastard down. Upon finding him, her pretty little head filled with images of rending him limb to limb and mauling his ghastly flesh with her claws.

No one had ever said Narcissa was…_delicate_. She was, after all, a Black.

For the time being, however, she simply transformed into her animagus form, and raced into the forest, intent on finding her only son and…grandson. Lucius was quite capable of handling himself.

**-x-x-**

When Harry finally came to, it was to Draco's pale face hovering over his with a look that was border-line concerned. Harry snorted, wondering when hell had finally frozen over, and idly wondered if Voldemort would appear tap dancing in his living room.

"Potter?" Was that a hint of worry in Draco's voice?

"I'm fine…" he managed to mutter, although it sounded somewhat like a croak.

"Good."

Groggily, Harry sat up, belatedly realizing that he had fainted back into the chair, and looked around. The clock on the mantle of the fireplace read 12:47. _So I was out for little more than five minutes. Jeez, I can't even faint properly._

"So?"

"So what?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Do you accept?"

_What is Malfoy going on about?_

"Tristan…?"

Oh…that. "I…" Harry paused. _Did_ he accept? The proof was undeniable, not to mention that the kid _did_ look eerily enough like a mixture between him and Malfoy, but if he did accept…what would that mean for his future. Not only would he have to look out for himself, but his child and _Malfoy_ as well. (There was no way he was raising a kid on his own). On the other hand, this was his chance at a family of his own, even if that family included Malfoy. He could spoil the kid rotten, give him everything he'd never had. But did he really want to put the child at risk like that? _Well, he's at risk being mine _anyway_ especially since Voldemort _knows_ that he is mine. Moreover, Malfoy ran off with him, so he's going to be looking for him anyway._

Harry sighed deeply and resisted the urge to scream 'WHY ME', to the skies. Not only would he look like a loony, but he didn't think that would help the situation much.

"I…what's going to happen if I accept?" Harry silently praised himself for thinking the situation through instead of just jumping right in. Hermione had, before their split, chided him relentlessly about his 'saving-people-thing', and his inability to 'think things through'. Harry scoffed, if there was one thing Harry _didn't _miss about his friend, it was _that_.

"I suppose whatever the Potters put as protection for their children comes into play…and he gets a stake in the Potter fortune..." Draco said slowly, "I doubt there is much protection however, since I was able to find you through Tristan, and since your name appeared on the Family Tree."

Harry nodded, eyeing Draco warily. "What do I have to do?"

"Just say, 'I accept Tristan Malfoy as my son'."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"That's…_it_?"

"Yes, Potter, that's it!" Draco snapped.

"Fine. I accept Tristan Malfoy as my son."

Harry didn't know what he expected but the little tingle and glow on the Malfoy Family Tree was pretty anticlimactic, all things considered. Glancing at the old parchment he snorted in surprise at the change. Instead of reading 'Tristan Malfoy', it now read Tristan Potter-Malfoy.

"How come your name's last?"

"Because I accepted him first." Draco said smugly. Harry rolled his eyes as he handed Draco back his family tree.

"Right. I don't know about you, but I'm tired and I _really_ need to sleep on this." He muttered.

Draco nodded. "That's acceptable."

Harry snorted, "oh! Well then, now that I have your permission…" he said snidely. Draco smirked, while backing away.

"Anytime Potter."

Harry glared at his retreating figure as he plopped down on the couch. This was going to be a long night.

**-o-o-**

Despite the rather life-altering events, Harry fell asleep faster than he thought he would, and did not wake up until around noon the next day. Yawning, scratching the back of his head, and mumbling to himself, Harry rose from the couch and entered the kitchen.

The sight that greeted him there, was most curious and left Harry gaping in shock.

Draco Malfoy stood wearing an apron. Not just any apron no, it was his Aunt Petunia's latest addition to her rather obscene collection. It was bright, neon green with large orange and pink daises. Not only was he wearing this…apron, but he also stood covered head-to-toe in flour, glaring at the gas stove, muttering angrily at the inanimate object. Seated at the table in a black and ivory high chair sat Tristan, who was smiling at his father, clapping his hands in glee.

Perhaps it was the incredulity of the scene, or maybe Harry just needed a release, but when Draco began cursing at the stove, calling it a 'heathen contraption bent on destroying his sanity', well Harry could not help himself. He laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"You think this is funny Potter?" Draco growled dangerously, turning flashing grey eyes in his direction.

Turned to face him, Harry felt his laughter increasing, and soon found himself rolling on the floor of his Aunt's kitchen, howling now, in glee. Draco's face was covered in what appeared to be jam, which Harry was idly curious about.

"I-you…and-the apron! Oh GOD!"

Draco stared down on him with a frown, eyes narrowed and hands on his hips. This of course, only served to send Harry further over the edge, and he was soon clutching at his sides in helpless agony.

"The horror! The horror!" He yelled, screeching with laughter.

"Oh funny Potter. Very funny," Draco growled.

Tristan was now laughing too, little gurgling laughs, while still clapping his hands.

Draco would not accept this. Grabbing the carton of flour, he proceeded to dump its entire contents on the unsuspecting Harry and then step back with a pleased smirk when the boy abruptly ceased his laughter.

"Did…did you just dump flour on me?" Harry asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"Indeed." Draco drawled, now eyeing him warily.

Standing, Harry calmly made his way to the sink and turned the water on.

"This means…WAR!" Swiftly, he detached the removable faucet head and thoroughly soaked a frozen Draco Malfoy.

"POTTER!"

**-o-**

Three hours, ten cleaning spells and a quick shower later, Harry and Draco were sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at a curious looking Tristan.

"I haven't had that much fun since…well since awhile." Harry muttered as he bounced Tristan in his lap. The little baby gurgled happily, reaching up for his cheeks.

Draco snorted, "I don't know about you, but I'm never going near flour again."

Harry laughed gaily, picking Tristan up and kissing his cheek.

"What were you trying to do anyway?"

"Well, I'd brought enough baby food for Tristan to last awhile, but I didn't exactly bring anything for myself. I was trying to make something to eat and since there aren't any house elves around here I had to do it myself." Draco sounded decidedly sullen about this fact, and was glaring heatedly at the surrounding kitchen.

Harry laughed again, bouncing Tristan on his knees once more.

"How about this? I'll do all the cooking if you promise to stay away from the flour."

Draco pretended to think about this for a minute before smirking, "deal. As long as you don't kill me with your cooking."

Harry smirked and began, in a mock-offended tone, "I'll have you know I am a highly skilled cook."

Draco snorted, "Whatever you say Potter."

Harry smiled, nuzzling his nose with Tristan's. Tristan laughed again, green eyes glowing with glee, and smacked his hands to Harry's cheeks.

"Oh god, you're turning my son into a sap!" Draco bemoaned with a gusty sigh.

"Am not," Harry muttered, still nuzzling noses with Tristan. "I'm just showing him some love!"

Draco snorted, "what does that have to do with your _nose_?" Harry glared at Draco shortly, before turning his attention back to Tristan.

"All children love attention."

"Pfft, I think my mother spoiled Tristan rotten with attention when she could…" Draco muttered, plucking deftly at his trousers. "Of course, he didn't like her much, or anyone for that matter, but he didn't immediately push her away like he usually does." Draco sighed, smoothing out the curly blonde locks of the little boys head.

Harry stared down at the small child with a small smile. He was already in love with the babe, and he'd only known him for…well less than 24 hours. It was hard not to however, when one stared down into his impossibly green eyes. Which, Harry idly noted, were flecked with a bit of silver? Harry snorted. Over all, the child was more Malfoy than Potter, at least at a quick glance.

As he stared down at his son, the simple fact that he was _his_ finally hit home causing him to take a deep, sharp breath. _Oh gods…I'm a father!_

It was one thing to admit that the kid was his and to accept that fact. But now, as he looked down on the small happy face, he realized that he really _was_ a father! This tiny bundle in his lap was his. This spark of life now depended on him for…well _everything_. Love, affection, attention, protection…and more.

Harry felt his breath leave him in a ragged sigh. He could feel Draco staring at him curiously, but could not voice his thoughts. No matter their shaky truce all throughout sixth year, and the…happenings of before, he did not trust the boy enough to share his inner doubts and fears.

"What's his middle name?"

"Er…" Looking up, Harry caught Draco in the midst of a fierce blush and stared at the boy in bemused shock.

"I uh, haven't given him one yet. I figured since I gave him his first name that you would want to…" He trailed off, staring intently at his shoes.

Harry, after realization sunk it, smiled brilliantly at the smaller boy before turning to give Tristan a scrutinizing stare. He already had a name in mind, and as he stared at the blonde-haired, green-eyed child on his lap, he knew it was a name the little boy would live up to.

"Sirius…" He finally muttered.

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, then smirked. "Tristan Sirius Malfoy, a proper name…" he drawled. Harry laughed loudly at this, closing his eyes and leaning back against the counter.

"Tristan Sirius Potter-Malfoy, now _that's_ a proper name."

He had a son. A son. An actually living, breathing creation of him and…well Malfoy, but still, Tristan was _his_. Harry felt the first bouts of protectiveness rise as he gazed down at the oblivious baby in his lap. He would do everything he could to give Tristan a great, loving childhood. It was the one thing he'd always wanted, and never had. If it cost him his dying breath, he would make sure that Tristan's everyday was one filled with happiness and love.

Glancing at the blonde-haired boy sitting next to him, he found Draco sitting slightly slouched with his eyes closed and head cradled against his chest. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, a sign that he had slipped into a light doze.

As Tristan crawled up onto his chest, Harry instinctively wrapped his arms around the small body and hummed lightly to the sleepy baby.

He would do everything in his power to make sure Tristan lived a happy and fulfilling life, and as he gazed at the other boy, he knew that would include Draco as well. If there was one thing that Harry promised his new child, it was the prospect of living with _both_ his parents alive and well and there for him whenever he needed.

Sighing, Harry settled into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. He would take a quick nap and then wake before his relatives arrived home. He dreaded the upcoming confrontation, but as he quickly fell into a light doze with the comfortable weight of Tristan asleep on his chest, he couldn't find it within himself to regret a thing.

**-e-**

**AN: Well, that's one! REVIEW PLEASE! PLEASE!? ….please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Harry Potter, I am ****not**** making any money off of this. I am doing this purely for my own entertainment…and hopefully because others enjoy reading this!**

**Warnings: Slash! Mild gore. **

**Story Notes:** For the purposes of this story, Lucius Malfoy has been released from Azkaban. . Enjoy!

**Summary: **Harry Potter never envisioned having kids, hell he didn't even know if he would live long enough to dream about them. Unfortunately for him, Fate has different plans and when Draco Malfoy appears on his doorstep with a six month old baby claiming to be theirs well…things get a bit…interesting.

**THANKS FOR AL THE REVIEWS! I WASN'T EXPECTING SUCH A GREAT RESPONSE! THANKS A LOT GUYS!**

* * *

_Requiem for a Dream_

**Chapter Two**

**-o-2-o-**

When Draco awoke less than an hour after falling asleep to find himself sitting on the floor, he could only snort and cautiously pop his back.

_All in all_, he thought as he surveyed the intimate scene in front of him, _Potter took this a lot better than I thought he would_. Standing, Draco silently left Harry and Tristan asleep on the floor and made his way to Harry's room.

While they were cleaning up their earlier mess, Harry had explained to Draco all about his relatives, and warned him about what to expect. Needless to say, Draco was _not_ a happy camper as he set up his child's playpen. He had to enlarge the room a bit to fit the small pen, and could only glare at the bare surroundings of Harry's room as he levitated Tristan's toys.

_To think, _he thought with a murderous frown, _these useless muggles try to pass this off as a room! My closet is - was - bigger than this. _Thinking of his home only served to upset him so he tried his best not to, concentrating fully on the task at hand.

"Malfoy?" Sluggish and still mostly asleep, Harry stood in the doorway looking down on him blearily.

"Yes?"

"Er…just wondering where you'd disappeared to…"

Draco smirked, shaking his head. "It's a little early in the relationship to be keeping tabs on me Potter." He drawled, inwardly laughing at Harry's rising blush.

"Its not - that's not what I meant and you know it."

Draco shrugged carelessly, levitating the last toy into the playpen. "I can't read minds Potter." He smiled to himself, _at least not in the way _you'd_ think_, he thought. Eyeing his work, Draco nodded to himself in satisfaction. _Now_, he mused, _if only we weren't stuck in this... 'room'. _

"What time is it?" He asked Harry while reaching for the still sleeping Tristan.

"Er…around four or so?"

Draco snorted, elegantly of course, as he laid Tristan down in his crib. Turning, he found Harry staring intently at the sleeping baby, a small smile on his face.

"Weird isn't it? To suddenly be a father…" He said softly, staring down on the baby. He heard Harry sigh heavily, then the soft sound of his footsteps as he came to stand above the crib.

"Yeah…but I think I'm slightly grateful."

"Grateful?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"Yeah…I mean, my life isn't all sunshine and daisies, and I know raising a kid, especially _now_ is going to be hell but…I mean at least I'll get the chance, you know?"

Draco nodded because he could understand that line of thinking. His life was not all sunshine and daisies either, contrary to popular belief, and he knew first-hand what living with the threat of Voldemort over your head felt like. Intimately.

For most of the Wizarding world, Voldemort was a threat, yes, but not _theirs_ personally. They were, in Draco's not-so-humble opinion a bunch of lazy sods. The amount of pressure they placed on Harry was enough to break a normal human being, but Harry simply took it in stride. Draco sighed, it was one of the reasons for their truce last year. He would _never_ tell Harry that but, after hearing about the prophecy that surrounded his life Draco could not help but respect the other wizard.

Of course, that didn't mean he had to respect the rest of them. To him Weasley and Granger would always be the poorest, most disgraceful bunch of slugs he'd ever have the displeasure to meet, and was infinitely glad that Harry had split from them. Contradictorily, Draco was curious about the reasons _behind_ the split. He had thought the three of them would be friends forever and all that poppycock.

Shrugging, Draco moved to sit on the bed, grimacing at the shoddy state of the mattress.

"Honestly Potter," he muttered as he punched the mattress. "I feel like I'm sitting on rocks!"

Harry snorted, moving to sit next to Draco. "I know…but we're only going to stay here for another four days…maybe less now that I have Tristan," he muttered more to himself than Draco.

"Explain."

Scowling at the command, Harry launched into an explanation. "Well, I inherited a bit of property from my father and Sirius when I turned seventeen so…" he shrugged, "I guess I've just been deciding which one I want to live in. Although, now that you and Tristan are with me, I think it would be best to go to Headquarters."

Draco nodded. From his lessons on pure-blood families he knew that the Potters were quite wealthy. Harry's father was an unexpected heir had late in life, and subsequently the sole recipient of quite a large amount of cash. Draco's mother was a Black, and while she had received a portion of the fortune, Sirius Black was the heir to the Black name. If he had left Harry, everything…well Mr. Harry James Potter was quite the wealthy wizard.

He, however, had no idea what these 'headquarters' were.

"And we can't leave earlier than that because? And what is Headquarters, and why should we go there?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I haven't actually felt like leaving…odd as that sounds. I've always dreamt of the day that I would leave this hellhole behind but…well I always figured I would do it with Ron and Hermione…" He trailed off leaving Draco feeling an acute sense of discomfort. He could tell that Harry was sad, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. Up until this point, they had been nothing more then tentative allies with a mutual sense of weariness for the childish fighting they had both participated in for the better part of their school years. Now the hand of a common enemy forced them into the rocky, rollercoaster ride that was parenthood. "And Headquarters has a Fidelius Charm in place, much more safe…I'll have to talk to Dumbledore about letting you in…"

Draco sighed, idly pulling at a loose thread on the comforter. "Well, despite your rather…interesting falling out with Weasley and Granger, I doubt you guys will stay split for much longer." Draco hoped Harry didn't hear the sarcastic, slightly condescending undertone to his statement.

"Right…" Harry mumbled, rubbing tiredly at his face. "Doesn't matter. I suppose we can be out of here by tomorrow afternoon…"

Draco resisted the urge to whine. Instead, he simply nodded and fell back onto the bed.

"Okay then."

Harry lay next to Draco, who grunted and rolled over to give him more room. With nothing else to do, the two feel into a light slumber.

**-o-o-**

"BOY!"

Harry jerked awake in a flash, sitting upright so fast his back popped. Beside him, Draco fell off the bed, landing with a dull 'thud' and a muffled exclamation of surprise and pain.

"Wait here." Harry mumbled. Passing Tristan's crib, he almost fell in shock. Staring up at him with bright, _awake_ green eyes sat Tristan; thumb nestled securely in his mouth.

"Er…hey." Harry mumbled, instantly forgetting about his uncle.

"Potter," came Draco's distinctive drawl, "I believe you have visitors."

"Shit…"

"Not in front of the child!"

Ignoring him, Harry rushed from the room and down the stairs, skidding to a halt before his relatives. Vernon looked distinctly displeased that Harry was still there, although there seemed to be a note of resignation there as well.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow evening!" He said as soon as he caught his breath. Vernon's mouth worked silently, his beady eyes large with surprise.

"Well…well that's good!" He finally barked. Petunia looked a bit shaken, but finally nodded as well.

"Er…we…I mean I have a guest…"

"WHAT!"

"He'll be going with me tomorrow! You won't even have to see him!"

Suddenly, Dudley was spluttering and pointing behind Harry. With a great sense of foreboding, Harry turned to find Draco Malfoy leaning casually against the stair banister. He had changed into a black cashmere turtleneck and a pair of tailored black trousers. With an air of easy elegance, he looked every inch a pureblood, aristocratic young man, and the wand held loosely in his hands seemed to tip the scales from easy nobility, to dangerous aristocrat.

"Is there a problem with my stay?" Draco drawled. Harry noted the icy tone and felt himself shiver despite it being addressed to his relatives.

After a minute or two of intense spluttering, Vernon was finally in control of his vocal abilities and began a rather thorough rant on Draco and the 'problem with his stay'.

To an outside observer, Draco appeared to take Vernon's yelling with a calm indifference. However, Harry had six years of experience watching his enemy turned…whatever…closely, and could see the storm brewing in those cold grey eyes. Taking a tentative step back, Harry resolved to calmly watch the proceedings and only interfere if things got _too_ out of hand.

"If you are quite finished," Draco cut in, effectively halting Vernon's rant. The tall, whale-like man stood with his mouth agape a moment before snapping it closed with an audible snap.

"Being Muggle, I find it easier to believe this utter lack of decorum…" Draco began with an icy calm.

_Here it goes,_ he thought. Harry spent the next five minutes watching with an acute sense of pleasure as Draco Malfoy gave his abhorrent relatives the dressing down of a century. By the end of it, Vernon was purple-faced and spluttering and both Petunia and Dudley were pale, Dudley clutching fiercely at his bum.

"…I do not like you, and I find your kind utterly repulsive." Draco was saying, still idly twirling his wand. "Over the course of the next day you will not approach either Harry or myself. We will leave tomorrow, as previously stated, and this will, _thankfully_, be the last we see of each other."

"WHO-YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT GOES ON IN MY HOUSE!"

Moving faster than Harry thought possible, Draco stood in front of his Uncle, wand drawn and steadily pointed in between the fat man's eyes. Harry jerked, wanting to interfere but somewhat reluctant.

"Yell at me once more you disgusting excuse for a human, and you'll find yourself writhing on the floor of this debauched shack you call a home missing several limbs…"

Vernon paled, even as his breathing turned into harsh angry sputters.

"You – I – Dudley, Petunia! We're going to visit Marge!"

That said, Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley, stalked out of their small home on number 4 Privet Drive, without looking back.

**-o-o- **

That night, Harry and Draco were sat on Harry's bed, watching Tristan play with his toys.

"Well, can't say this hasn't been enlightening." Draco murmured, resting back on his elbows.

Harry snorted, "Yeah, that's one way of putting it."

Draco sighed, "what do we do now, Potter?"

Harry snorted, "_You_ don't have some grand scheme planned?"

"I got Tristan and myself here _alive_. That _was_ my grand scheme."

Harry shook his head wryly, lips twisted into an amused little smile. Draco closed his eyes, slumping back.

"Jeez, Malfoy. I thought you were the Slytherin here…"

"Summer hols. I'm not _anything_ right now."

Harry grinned. He liked that view point. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am, Potter." The undisguised arrogance of that statement had Harry laughing. Tristan, curious about the commotion, looked up from his stuffed dragon with curious green eyes.

"What do _you_ want?" Harry asked playfully as he scooped the small babe up. Tristan giggled rubbing his cheek against Harry's. Harry sighed, feeling a swell of paternal love flow through him.

"Smile, Potter!"

Before Harry knew it, a flash went off leaving him blinking in shock. Once the spots had disappeared from his vision, he caught Draco slipping a Wizarding camera into his robe pocket.

"For the family album," he muttered cheekily. Harry shook his head. Eyes drifting to the baby in his arms.

"Your father is nutters." Harry muttered, kissing Tristan's cheek.

"Don't tell our son lies!" Draco said with false indignation. Harry started, _our son huh?_ He smiled, eyeing Draco. _I suppose it could be worse. At least Draco is gorgeous and not a hag like…Parkinson, or Voldemort for that matter._ He blushed lightly, looking away. He had, since last year, accepted his own bi-sexuality. It was no secret that Draco Malfoy was one of, if not _the_, hottest bloke at Hogwarts. He was also unrepentantly gay. Harry smiled, nuzzling his son's nose.

At the very least, there was hope that their relationship (if one could called forced parenthood a relationship), might just work.

**-x-x-**

Draco awoke slowly, mind working to assimilate his surroundings. With a start, he realized that he was in Harry's bed and that…Harry's arm was slung across his waist, holding him close. Draco smirked. _Cuddling already, are we?_ Though he wouldn't tell a soul, this was a hidden dream come true. Even if the other boy didn't realize it, Draco delighted waking up held. Safe. With Harry Potter. Smiling, Draco sighed and burrowed into Harry's side. With a quick peek to make sure Tristan still slept, Draco drifted back into slumber.

**--**

Harry woke about an hour later. It couldn't be any later than six a.m and he wondered what had awoken him. Yawning, he slowly blinked and reached for his glasses. Or tried to. His arm was currently trapped under Draco, who was half-sprawled across his chest. Asleep, the other boy's face was relaxed and he looked far younger than his seventeen years.

Harry sighed. Despite appearances though, Harry knew that Draco had seen a lot more than any regular seventeen year old.

A soft whimper broke Harry's calm. Glancing up, he found Tristan wide-awake and crying. Moving quickly, but not enough to wake Draco, he eased the other boy off his chest and made his way to Tristan's crib.

"What's wrong, love?" Harry asked, picking up the red-faced child. His cries didn't get any louder than soft whimpers, but for some reason that made it all the worse. Gently rocking him, Harry was glad when Tristan laid his small, blonde head on Harry's shoulder and calmed a little.

"He's probably hungry…though he's never cried for food before."

Harry very nearly jumped. Turning, he found Draco standing behind him. His hair was mussed and he looked sleepy-eyed and ruffled. Harry found the sight, of all things, rather endearing.

"Where's his food?" He asked softly. Tristan was rubbing his cheek against Harry's, his face still a little red and damp.

Draco picked up one of the many luggage's surrounding their room and pulled out some food. It was held under a stasis charm, and as Draco cancelled it, Harry moved to place Tristan in his high-chair.

Silent once more, Harry accepted the soft…mush, or whatever it was without fuss.

"Will he be alright?" Harry asked as he spooned another mouthful of the green stuff into his son's mouth. Tristan looked calm now, but Harry didn't want to take any chances.

Draco frowned, settling in beside him on the bed. "He should be. I mean…I hope. I just don't rightly know."

Draco yawned.

"Go back to sleep, Draco. I can handle him…I think. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

Without moving farther up the bed, Draco slumped back and closed his eyes. Harry shook his head.

"Lazy sod," he said without any heat. He stared at Tristan, then Draco, noting the startling similarities between the two. Believe or not but…these two were his family now. It was a sobering thought, especially with Voldemort on the loose and all the things that had happened in his life thus far.

Tristan had eaten his food, and was now calmly cuddling into Harry's arms as Harry paced the room.

He had no idea where he was going to take Draco and Tristan but it had to be somewhere safe. There was always Grimmauld Place, but he wasn't sure he wanted to subject Draco and Tristan to that gloomy old place. Plus, the Order was there and he wasn't too keen on answering the inquires they would surely have, nor was he at all looking forward to facing the Weasley's.

With a frustrated sigh, Harry sat on the bed, Tristan in his lap. He gave the little boy his glasses, as he seemed so enamored with them, and lay back. Beside him, Draco mumbled something and rolled over. Harry grabbed the back of his pajama top, preventing him from rolling right over the edge and softly tugged him back onto the bed.

Tristan had settled on his stomach, idly twisting and tugging on the black spectacles whilst Harry lay in deep thought.

In terms of practicality, it would be best to take his family (_gods, wasn't _that_ an odd thought!_) to Grimmauld Place. At least for a few days. He could then check out a few of his properties. It had been some years, after all, since these places had been put to use. They might not be fit to live in.

He would need help, of course. Perhaps he could hire Dobby, and maybe Winky to help. Winky probably had a lot of experience with babies that would come in handy.

_What will we do at school?_ He thought, painfully aware that it would be nearly impossible to raise a child while at school.

Beside him, Draco sighed and rolled over towards Harry. He emitted a light snore that was nearly impossible to hear unless you were really close. Harry grinned, tugging Tristan's fingers.

"You hear that? Your Father _snores_!" He whispered conspiratorially. Tristan, smart as he was, laid curious green eyes on Draco's figure his small nose scrunching up as he stared. Suddenly he giggled, leaving Harry staring at him in wonder.

"Smart kid," he thought. Even if Tristan _didn't_ know exactly what Harry'd said, he understand enough to know that he was speaking of Draco and that laughter would be appreciated.

As he stared at his son, currently wearing a black one-sie with a bright blue dragon blowing out a stream of happy, light blue fire, Harry wondered if he would have had this opportunity to be a parent had Voldemort not acted.

_Probably not_, he thought. If he did survive the battle with Voldemort his celebrity status would surely skyrocket. Who then, would really be after him because he was _'Harry'_ and not _'Harry Potter'_.

"Even my friends can't see past the bloody scar," He mumbled darkly. Tristan stopped fiddling with his glasses long enough to send him a confused star. Leaning forward, the little babe crawled up Harry's chest and placed a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Harry grinned, melting as he held his son tighter. He would have given his life for Tristan's, in that moment.

An hour later, Draco awoke groggily. Harry and Tristan were on the floor, playing with his Dragon Plush Set. Four dragons were charmed to fly about a foot above ground and shoot out cool, harmless flames. They were stuffed, and made of a soft plush material that even Harry had a hard time letting go of. Tristan's current favorite was the Hungarian Horntail. Go figure.

"Morning," Harry murmured to Draco.

Draco nodded, yawning. "How is he?" He asked, nodding towards Tristan.

"Happy…I think." Harry shrugged, bumping the Hungarian Horntail's nose against Tristan's. "He seems alright to me."

Draco nodded, yawning again. "It has been a _long_ week." He murmured again, "A _long_ week."

"AHHH!" Tristan gurgled happily.

Draco rolled his eyes. "He's going to be as loud as _you_ Potter. I hope your bad manners don't rub off on him."

Harry snorted, "I'm sure you'll teach him right," he muttered sarcastically. Draco grinned superiorly.

"Of course."

Minutes passed while they both watched Tristan, until Draco made a funny face and looked pointedly at Harry.

"What?"

"His diaper needs changing."

Harry's eyes grew comically wide. "What?"

"His diaper, Potter. You know, the thing he shits in."

"Not in front of the child!" Harry hissed, parroting Draco's words back to him. Rolling his eyes, Draco 'accio'd' the diaper bag and pulled out a fresh diaper, powder, wipes, and a new outfit for the day.

Harry stared at the materials blankly, wondering if he was _really_ required to change Tristan's diaper.

"Erm…"

"I'll walk you through the steps, Potter, just pick him up and take him to the changing table."

"What changing table?"

Draco pointed his wand to a rapidly growing changing table.

"_That_ changing table."

Sighing, Harry grabbed Tristan and swiftly picked him up. Tossing him lightly in the air, he caught him with a grin. Tristan squealed happily, rubbing his cheek against Harry's as he was carried to the baby blue and white table. Gently lying him down, he stared at Draco uncomprehendingly as the other boy handed him the diaper.

"Well! Undress him!"

Glaring, Harry grabbed the diaper and set it aside.

"Alright, Tristan. Stay still and don't - please don't - squirt Daddy." Harry mumbled. Beside him, Draco laughed.

All in all, the process was pretty harmless. Tristan wasn't a 'squirter', which Draco didn't feel the need to let him know until _after_ Harry had finished.

"Would have saved me a load of anxiety," Harry mumbled angrily.

"Why? I was quite amused watching you skirt around Tristan's 'wee-wee', as if it were a dangerous weapon."

"Wee-wee?" Harry repeating, chocking on laughter.

Draco scowled. "It doesn't feel right to call it a…cock."

Harry laughed openly. "Oh gods! Your _face_!"

Draco's scowl deepened. "Are you finished dressing him, Potter?" He growled.

"Just a sec," slipping on his son's left sock, Harry grabbed a matching pair of blue and grey sneakers, that complemented Tristan's khaki shorts and soft blue shirt.

"This is really nice material," he said, rubbing the sleeve of Tristan's shirt.

"Only the best for a Malfoy." Draco replied with mock arrogance.

"Potter-Malfoy."

"Semantics." Said Draco, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

"Whatever," Harry mumbled.

"Have you figured out where we're going, Potter?" Draco asked, minutes later. They had moved to the kitchen and were currently about to feed themselves while Tristan watched from his high chair.

Harry sighed, "Headquarters first, then I'll scout out a few of the estates and see what their condition is."

"Sounds reasonable," Draco drawled. "And this…Headquarters?"

Harry sighed, pulling out a frying pan. "Its not the…best place in the world, but until I know what the other places look like, I'd rather go somewhere that I _know_ is stocked and at least somewhat presentable."

Draco nodded.

"What do you want to eat?" Harry asked.

"What were you going to make?"

"Eggs, muffins, tea and hash…"

Draco 'mmhmmed' softly, "I approve." He drawled, grinning.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, since you approve…" he snarked. Cracking four eggs, Harry began cooking. Behind him, Draco had picked up Tristan and was currently 'flying' him through the air.

"Do you think he'll play Quidditch?" Draco absently asked.

"With us as parents? Of course,"

Draco smirked, "yes well, with my skill he'll be the best Quidditch player in history."

Harry rolled his eyes, snorting under his breath. "You're delusional," he muttered. Draco scowled at him.

"Listen to nothing he says, Tristan." Draco muttered into his son's soft, pink ear. "He's a Gryffindor, they're notoriously stupid."

Harry let out a surprised shock of laughter, almost dropping his spatula.

"You're ridiculous, Draco."

"I do try," he drawled. Spinning a squealing Tristan in a tight circle, Draco finally sat him down.

Tristan frowned, arms reaching out for Draco. He made a slightly distressed noise, causing Harry to turn.

Draco was staring at Tristan with something akin to worry and shock.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked as the little boy began to silently cry.

"I don't know," Draco responded as he picked him up. Instantly, Tristan buried his head into Draco's neck, little arms holding on tightly to his sweater.

"Has he ever done that before?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head, rubbing circles into Tristan's back. "Never."

Harry sighed. "We have no idea what we're doing…we need help."

Draco snorted, "really?" He asked sarcastically.

Harry glared at the blonde, mouth turning down in a displeased frown. "Look, I know a few house elves that know a thing or two about babies."

Draco frowned at him, "have they ever been Bound before?"

"Yes," Harry snapped.

"Forgive me if I doubt your so-called knowledgeable house elves, Potter, especially with the state of things around here!"

Glaring, Harry moved to stand before Draco, eyes blazing. "Look, Malfoy _you_ ca - "

Abruptly, Harry broke off. An intense frown overtook his face, even as his wand came zipping into his right hand.

"What?" Draco asked, voice slightly hoarse with a note of panic and worry. His clutch on Tristan looked a little painful, but their was a dangerous protective gleam in his eyes that let Harry know he was ready to fight.

And it was a fight that was surely coming.

"Someone's trying to undermine the wards…" He whispered. Without another word, Harry pushed Tristan and Draco towards his bedroom. "My Invisibility Cloak is under my bed, under a loose floorboard. It's easy to find when you're looking for it." He was speaking rapidly, mind only half-focused on the protesting blonde before him. "Grab it and take Tristan with you as soon as you can! Here!" He shoved a quickly summoned piece of parchment into Draco's unwilling hands.

"Read it!" He barked, even as he moved Draco up the stairs.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix…"

Harry stopped listening as soon as Draco stumbled into the room.

"Now wait just a second Potter! If you think I'm going to sit up here while you - "

"Someone has to protect Tristan!" Harry interrupted, already exiting the room. "Just get out as soon as you can!"

Harry didn't wait for a reply. Slamming the door shut, he shot as many protective wards as he could remember from his training with Dumbledore and other, select members of the Order, and rushed down the stairs.

He didn't have a plan as of yet, but he knew one thing for sure: anyone who dared harm his family was going to have hell to pay.

**-x-x-**

Voldemort eyed the bumbling cauldron distastefully, thin lips pulling into a tight, displeased frown.

"You are _absolutely_ sure this will work, Wormtail?" He hissed, causing the little man to shiver. Simpering, blood and snot running down his nose and into his mouth in disgusting rivulets, Wormtail could only nod shakily.

"Should it fail…" He said no more. The threat hung thickly in the air, like a noxious fume waiting to strike.

"It will not, Master." Wormtail blubbered, multiple chins quivering with anxiety. Voldemort's lip curled in disgust. Really, the man was a disgrace.

Still, he was useful. When it was needed of him, little Peter Pettigrew could be a great Potions Master. Voldemort smirked, irony of ironies, wasn't it?

Eyeing the putrid, convalescing potion once more, Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. If the Malfoy's thought that had pulled one over his eyes, as the Muggles were want to say, then they were far stupider than he'd given them credit for.

Did they think he had not placed protections over the Child for the time he'd had him in his care. He laughed, a macabre sound so sudden and harsh that Wormtail jumped, tripping over himself while knocking over several empty vials. The landed on the stone floor with a resounding crash.

Wormtail stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Voldemort allowed a slow smirk to form, red eyes glittering in the flickering dungeon light.

"Well?" He purred, "Clean it up!"

Jumping to do his bidding, Wormtail never noticed the triumphant smile that stretched his too thin lips and made his face a mere caricature of humanity.

No, the Malfoys were _far_ stupider than he'd thought if they believe taking the Child would render him useless. Voldemort settled into the throne-like chair that was the only piece of furnishing in the near bear room and smiled.

Though things had been set back and plan rearranged, he was in a far better position to act _now_, than he had been.

Ah, to be underestimated was a thing to be relished. And Tom Marvolo Riddle knew _all_ about that, didn't he?

**-e-**

**AN:** ONCE AGAIN: Thanks for all the great reviews everybody! I smiled by way through each and every one and couldn't help but scream in happiness when I actually _got_ reviews!

Now, on to business.

**1. **This chapter is shorter than the first, as will be all others. Somewhere between 4500-5000 words per chapter, I'm thinking. I can't rightly say how many chapters this story will be, but I'm shooting for around 15-20, so we'll see!

**2.** Updates _**will be irregular**_. I have two jobs and college, so I'm not quite able to write as much as I'd like, but I have this story pretty outlined so I can safely say that I won't be abandoning it.

**3. **That's it for now!

_**Please review, if only to say 'yes' or 'no' to the story! Thanks!!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Harry Potter, I am ****not**** making any money off of this. I am doing this purely for my own entertainment…and hopefully because others enjoy reading this!**

**Warnings: Slash! Mild gore. **

**Story Notes:** For the purposes of this story, Lucius Malfoy has been released from Azkaban. =]. Enjoy!

**Summary: **Harry Potter never envisioned having kids, hell he didn't even know if he would live long enough to dream about them. Unfortunately for him, Fate has different plans and when Draco Malfoy appears on his doorstep with a seventh month old baby claiming to be theirs well…things get a bit…interesting.

**THANKS FOR AL THE REVIEWS! THEY REALLY MADE ME SMILE!**

* * *

_Requiem for a Dream_

**Chapter Three**

**-o-3-o-**

Draco quickly packed away what belongings he'd brought to Potter's house, wand moving furiously as he eased Tristan into a more comfortable position on his hip. A small bead of sweat formed on his brow, trickling slowly down his temple as he moved. Pale lips twisted into a sneer as he listened intently to the quiet of the shabby Dursley home.

Tristan sat silent in his arms, green eyes serious and bright.

"Potter is going to get himself killed, always playing the hero." Draco muttered angrily. Bags packed and successfully shrunk to a pocket-fit size, Draco stood in the bare room pensively. Though his heart fluttered dangerously and his mind screamed _'run!_', there was a small part of him that worried for the safety of the green-eyed idiot that happened to be the other father of his child.

Not only that, but just _what_ in the hell did Potter expect him to say if he showed up on the doorstep of _'Headquarters_' with a child. And not just any child, _Harry Potter's _child.

Shortly following this thought, a dark little smirk flitted across Draco's pale face. _Oh, I can only imagine how the little Weaslette will react_, he thought. _All hell and damnation and accusations. _His smirk turned into a grin, which slowly slid into a deep chuckle. Tristan eyed him oddly, a smile hovering around the edges of his chubby cheeks. He was obviously wondering if this was a time to laugh.

Draco calmed, dropping a small kiss on the pale forehead of his son.

"Right." He muttered decisively. Potter was the Chosen Boy, right? He could very well handle himself. "This," Draco muttered to Tristan, "is what I like to call Common Sense. Potter has a surprising _lack_ of it, and therefore doesn't know when to run or accept help."

Tristan gave him a '_look_'. Draco grimaced. "Truth, Tristan! All truth!"

With a sigh and a nervous flutter of his fingers, Draco decided it was _well past_ time to go. _Especially since I'm starting to justify my actions to a seven-month old child_.

With a wry shake of his head, Draco headed for the wretched bed and the supposed loose floorboard underneath it.

Though he was currently facing a life-and-death situation, he couldn't help but eye the dusty floor distastefully. He didn't think an _'accio_' would work on an Invisibility Cloak, and sighed.

Moving to sit Tristan comfortably on the bed, Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when the door burst open and a frazzled looking Harry stumbled in.

"What the _hell_, Potter!" Draco shouted, one hand gripping his wand whilst the other crushed a quickly grabbed Tristan to his chest.

"Sorry - sorry. Just a little…flustered." Harry answered breathlessly.

"I should imagine."

Previously unnoticed, Narcissa Malfoy glided into the room with a small smirk and a marked sense of relief in her clear blue eyes. She eyed the shabby room with a moue of disgust and, with an elegant wave of her wand, cleared it of dust. Seconds later, she conjured a dainty little chair and settled in, ice blue robes settling regally about her.

Draco stared at her in shock, mouth hanging open in surprise.

"_Mother?_"

She eyed him with one eyebrow raised. It was a move so uncannily similar to Severus Snape's signature arched brow that Harry shivered.

"Don't act so surprised, Draco. This was the plan, was it not?"

Draco nodded mutely.

"Mr. Potter, those are an impressive set of wards guarding your home."

Harry started, an open look of unease and embarrassment crossing his features as the attention of the room shifted back to him. Draco could feel a smirk settling on his face as he watched the dark-haired boy scratch nervously at the back of his neck. It was a habit of his, Draco thought with sudden clarity. He'd been doing that since…_forever_.

"Er - yeah. Dumbledore put them up…"

Narcissa tilted her head _just so_. Her mouth tilted down ever so slightly even as an eyebrow arched one increment higher.

"Really?" Though meant to sound polite, there was an undercurrent there that said _'I know I'm being lied to and I do not like it_'.

Draco shook his head lightly, his grip loosening on Tristan as his heartbeat slowly began to stabilize.

"I - er - I might have added a few of my own…"

Narcissa made a faint 'hmm' sound.

"They feel new."

"Yeah."

Narcissa continued to stare at Harry. Harry fidgeted. It was obvious that Narcissa was waiting for some sort of answer, and also obvious that Harry had no idea what the question had even been. Draco sighed, taking pity on the green-eyed Gryffindor.

"When did you add them, Potter?"

Harry jumped slightly, hand twitching towards his wand. He'd obviously forgotten Draco's presence. Draco snorted.

"Oh. Last night."

Narcissa once more made that non-committal-but-still-very-weighty 'hmm' sound as she stared at Harry. The way she eyed him reminded Draco very suddenly of Hermione Granger when confronted with a particularly difficult puzzle. He wondered if he should warn his mother not to try to _'figure Potter out_' as there was **no** rhyme or reason for the things the Gryffindor did. Draco should know, he'd tried for the past seven years to analyze the messy-haired teenager, and to no avail.

There as always something _more_ to Potter, and it was unnerving to believe you had his character pinned down, only to have him turn around and do something…like this. Though he wouldn't admit it, Draco felt gratification and admiration towards Potter. He'd thought enough about Tristan and himself to add extra protection, on top of that already provided by Dumbledore. It was an…interesting thing to learn.

"So…" Harry muttered as the silence lengthened.

Draco slowly began to unpack again, settling Tristan into his newly re-constructed play-pen. The small babe eyed him ruefully, as if reprimanding him for almost leaving when there was nothing to worry about. Draco was very tempted to sneer at his son, and thought better of it at the last moment. _I__ need rest. In a nice four poster bed…with silk sheets. A bath, hot - very hot - bath would also be in order. With that musk and clover…smell father had bought the last time he had visited the Amazon, perhaps there is some still at the - _Draco immediately turned his thoughts off, shying away from any mention of his family's now destroyed home.

"Mother, have you had any word from Father?" Draco asked. Tristan began tugging on his fingers, casually slipping one into his mouth. Draco barely noticed as the infant began gnawing on his digits, so focused on his mother was he.

"I have not. Don't worry for Lucius, Draco. He is quite capable of taking care of himself."

Draco snorted, finally taking in his son's recent activity.

"Tristan!" He exclaimed, pulling one sticky, wet finger from his son's face. Gazing up at him with innocent, green eyes, Tristan only blinked before looking around from something new to chew on. Narcissa smiled with obvious delight, moving in an elegant swirl to swoop her grandson up.

Draco watched from the corner of his eye as Harry's hand twitched once more to his wand. The bespectacled young lad watched Narcissa with barely veiled suspicion as she picked up a silent, somber Tristan.

Narcissa sighed, breaking the sudden stillness of the room. "Well at least he isn't crying." She muttered, rocking the babe back and forth. Draco shook his head, watching his son intently. It was only going to be a matter of time before…

…Ah, there! The tell-tale scrunching of his forehead (a trait he _surely_ got from Potter), and the slight quiver of his lower lip.

"Here, let me hold him!" Harry said, moving forward. Tristan immediately reached for Harry, cheeks turning an unbecoming red as he began to get distressed. Draco sighed. It was good that Harry recognized the signs of Tristan's distress, but this left them in a bit of a…situation.

"How are we going to take care of him at school? He can't stand being around, or held by other people for anything longer than five minutes, and we can't leave him alone!" Draco exclaimed, voicing his thoughts.

Narcissa nodded, staring guardedly at Harry and Tristan. The green-eyed teen was currently pacing the room, swinging a steadily calming Tristan back and forth. He would make odd faces at the babe every once in a while, and toss him a short distance in the air. Draco watched with a smirk. _Not going to be a good father my ass,_ he thought. He felt rather proud of himself at the moment. He had gotten his son away from a reptilian madman and taken him to the one place he was sure to be most protected.

Sure there were a multitude of other dangerous facing them. But at present, all Draco felt was relief. It had been a trying few weeks before the escape, with each Malfoy feeling uncharacteristically on edge.

"Why don't you leave him with the house elves," Narcissa suggested lightly, "he does seem rather fond of the little creatures."

"Absolutely not!" Harry snapped, momentarily stopping his pacing. A tug on one unruly lock had Harry's attention placed back firmly on the babe in his arms.

"And why ever not, Mr. Potter?" His mother asked coolly. Draco sighed. Was he going to have to break up at fight between the two?

"I refuse to leave my son with a house elf, it isn't right. I mean, sure they can help but…to just…leave him with them? As if we didn't care!?"

"As his grandmother, Mr. Potter - "

She was cut off in an angry tirade by the burning, emerald eyes of a slightly enraged Harry Potter.

"And as Tristan's _father_ I say _no!_"

Narcissa did not back down, instead choosing to stand to her full five feet nine inches with a cool arching of one thin eyebrow.

"And what do you propose doing, Mr. Potter." She began in a deceptively calm voice. Only it felt like ice laid over steel. Draco shivered, having been on the receiving end of that tone only once in his short seventeen years. He'd vowed to never have _that_ tone directed on him ever again.

Potter however, Neanderthal that he seemed to be, stared at the woman mulishly. He was three, maybe four inches taller than her, and broad in the chest and shoulders.

Draco couldn't honestly tell who had the upper-hand in this battle of wills.

"Do you plan on forgoing your seventh year? Hiding out to take care of a child, a child that the Dark Lord _knows_ exists and hunts? Where will you go then, Mr. Potter, where, may I ask, is there a location as safe as Hogwarts?"

She paused for a moment, as if waiting for him to reply. As soon as Harry opened his mouth, Draco groaned. _For god's sake Potter, just _let it go _for now! _

Narcissa cut him off before he could make a reply. Draco watched the two before him with a resigned bout of morbid curiosity. He also sincerely wished that Blaise were there, if only so that he could make a fairly outrageous bet with the dark skinned Slytherin. Blaise had a good eye for that sort of thing.

"…are severely under prepared for this, Mr. Potter." Narcissa was saying. "If you cannot accept my help, that's fine. However, we _are_ family now and that is something you are going to have to get used to. Sooner, rather than later. You may not like me, Mr. Potter, but I am still the Grandmother to the child you hold so dearly in your arms. You forget yourself if you believe I will sit back and allow you to make uninformed decisions regarding his life!" The last was snapped out so harshly, Draco wondering why the green-eyed teen was not burning and turning to ash at his mother's feet.

Draco watched as Harry regarded the woman carefully, eyes surprisingly guarded. The atmosphere in the room was strangely dense, thick with the anticipation of…_something_.

Draco held his breathe, watching as Tristan began to squirm incessantly. He longed to grab the babe and soothe him but…something told him moving just then would ruin…whatever was currently happening.

Finally Harry looked away, eyes moving to the restless figure of Tristan. "Fine." He murmured.

Narcissa nodded firmly while moving back to her seat.

"If it helps, you should know that your parents had a house elf watch over you as well."

Harry eyed the blonde woman curiously.

"Well, they were both…working people, yes?" Harry nodded. "And the Potters were an exceptionally rich and pureblood family."

She stopped speaking, leaving the rest to Harry. Draco sighed.

"Okay, so that's partially figured out." He said. With a frown, Draco moved to sit on the edge of the dilapidated bed. "Where do we go from here? We obviously can't stay here…" Draco muttered, directing the last portion of his statement towards Potter.

The green-eyed teen sighed, rubbing a nose against Tristan's distractedly.

"Headquarters. It's our only option."

Narcissa made a soft sound in the back of her throat, causing Harry to shoot a mild glare in her direction. Draco idly wondered if he would be subjected to their bickering for much longer.

_Honestly, between the two of them, I don't know whose worse? My mother's near as stubborn and bullheaded as Potter! _

"And where is this…Headquarters?" Narcissa asked.

"Grimmauld Place." Harry responded. "Perhaps you're familiar with it…" He mocked.

Narcissa sent him a look that Draco had been on the receiving end one too many times over the summer.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. More familiar with it than you will ever know."

Harry snorted. "I don't doubt it." He muttered under breath. Draco sighed. _I'm going to have to teach him the fine art of subtlety_.

"Aaah!" Tristan screamed loudly, clapping noisily at Harry's cheeks. Harry grinned brightly, placing a loud, warm kiss on Tristan's forehead.

Draco couldn't help the softening of his features as he watched the two interact, and it took a moment for him to realize that his mother was watching _him_ watch Potter.

He scowled at her briefly when she had the nerve to raise one elegant eyebrow.

"Potter, let me see Tristan."

Harry turned, giving Draco a quizzical stare. He moved towards Draco, eyes cutting to Tristan.

"You wanna see Draco? Huh?" Harry whispered. "You want to go to your grumpy dad?"

Tristan made a cute little face of confusion, looking between Harry and Draco with a small frown.

"Stop confusing him with your stupidity, Potter." Draco drawled as he reached for his son. Tristan moved towards Draco, sending Harry a wet smacking of the lips that was probably meant to be a kiss. Draco grinned, hugging the small babe to his chest.

"You're picking up your father's bad habits." He muttered in Tristan's ear. "Malfoy's are always proper, unlike Potter over there."

Potter snorted, rubbing a hand vigorously over his face.

"Don't listen to a word he says, Tristan. He's full of a lot of hot air and nothing substantial."

"Substantial, Potter? You've been around Granger for entirely too long. You're beginning to sound a bit pretentious."

Tristan chose this exact moment to pull a fistful of Draco's fine hair into his mouth with a triumphant little grunt.

"Tristan!" Draco exclaimed. He pulled his son away quickly, trying futilely to remove the extra firm grip on his overly sensitive hair. "Potter! Help me!"

In the corner, Narcissa watched the proceedings with a very pronounced smirk of amusement.

Harry stood over Draco grinning proudly at his son. "Are you sure you want my help Draco? I wouldn't want to be…oh I don't know…_pretentious _or anything."

Tristan gave a particularly strong tug and chew, causing Draco to yelp.

"POTTER! So help me, if you don't get your arse over here right now, you're going to regret it!"

"Draco!" His mother hissed. "Not in front of the child!"

"Yes, Draco." Harry purred. The sound sent an odd shiver down Draco's spine, which he duly ignored. "Watch your language."

"_Potter_," Draco growled. He was holding onto his hair by the roots but by the _gods_ his hair was sensitive and Tristan was unnaturally _strong_.

Potter sighed. Grabbing onto a happily munching Tristan, Harry scooped the babe up gently before gently working Draco's hair from his mouth and fingers.

"Come on Tristan, let go of Draco's hair. He's terribly sensitive about it you know."

Draco growled.

"But it is very pretty hair," Harry muttered in a conciliatory tone. Draco snorted.

Finally, Harry had Tristan safely away from Draco and was perched on the other side of the bed giving his son warm kisses.

"You're a quick learner Tristan! We'll make a Marauder out of you yet!"

Draco gave an indignant scoff.

"You're out of your bloody mind if you think we're going to raise our son to be a - a - a _Marauder_, whatever that is! He's not going to take after you and your amazing _lack_ of common sense, Potter." Draco snapped.

Harry sent him a cocky grin. "Seems he's taking after me already."

Draco scowled, before turning to look at his mother.

"Well, I don't suppose _you_ have anything to say." He muttered. She merely raise one eyebrow and smiled.

"No. I believe I'll leave _this_ up to you."

"Tristan needs to be changed." Harry suddenly murmured.

Draco eyed his son, who was giggling and smiling innocently. Rubbing at his temple, Draco wondered if his life couldn't get any stranger than this.

**-x-x-**

Harry eyed his room without feeling. It was bare. He'd even gone so far as to strip the sheets. Nothing was left here to ever say a young boy had spent the better part of seven years in this room, or the house even.

He stood on the threshold of leaving, and Harry wasn't sure where exactly his life would go from here. Things had already changed drastically. He was a father, and the journey he'd expected to take with Hermione and Ron by his side, was now being done with two of his greatest…enemies. He didn't think his life could change as drastically as it had, but Harry knew that with his life, he could never say never.

Behind him stood Draco - who was apparently no longer Malfoy - holding onto Tristan. Harry could hear the impatient shuffling of Draco's feet, and heard the other boy softly sigh. Harry grinned into empty space.

With his back to the other boy, Harry could only imagine the expression of pained frustration on Draco's aristocratic face.

He was thankful for Draco's silence however. Small miracle that it was. He had expected loud exclamations of frustration, demands that he _'hurry up already_', or even death glares and threats. All he had gotten was soft sighs and impatient shuffling.

Finally, after one final sweep of the room Harry turned towards Draco with a sigh.

"Alright, I'm ready."

Draco looked as if he were resisting the urge to snap 'finally', instead choosing to nod with slow blink. Tristan reached for Harry, small face oddly serious. Harry gently took his son, landing a soft kiss on his forehead. He ignored the odd look Draco sent his way, passing the other boy casually as he left his 'home' for the final time.

"Let's go."

**-x-x-**

Remus Lupin tiredly dragged his body from the basement of Grimmauld Place. Two days after the full moon and he still felt lethargic and over-wrought. Pain wracked his arm and leg muscles, the result of the rather abrupt change in species, and he grimaced.

A knock rang out again and Remus sighed. Nobody was due for a visit for quite some time so he was mildly curious as to just _who_ this visitor was.

"Just a minute," he called out softly as another knock ran through the dark house. Idly, he realized that he would have to begin cleaning out the place for the storm of visitors that were sure to begin descending. He was amazed that the place had stayed as quiet as it had for so long, really.

Finally reaching the door, Remus glanced through the old-fashioned peephole and gasped in surprise.

"Harry?" He softly murmured as he opened the door. So intent on the young teenager who was like a son to him, Remus missed the two cloaked figures behind him.

It wasn't until he opened the door to a sheepishly grinning Harry that he actually noticed them at all.

"Harry?" He questioned again.

"Er…hey Remus." He muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. Remus grinned softly. He wondered if the boy knew he did that when he was nervous.

"What - ah - brings you here?"

He was ashamed to admit that he didn't know the exact date, although he was aware that Harry's birthday had already passed having gotten him a Quidditch repair kit and a rare collection of Defense books.

He was however, under the impression that Harry would visit some of his families holdings before writing and letting everyone know he would be arriving at Grimmauld.

"I…can we come in?"

Remus, eyeing the cloaked figures cautiously, stepped aside. He trusted Harry, surely, but he was still awfully curious about the other two people. They smelt…familiar. _Is there a…third person with them?_

He was jerked out of his musings when he realized that Harry was staring at him, obviously waiting for a response to some previously posed question.

"I'm sorry, Harry. What did you say?"

"I was wondering if we could go to the drawing room, I've got a lot to tell you."

He gestured to the two figures behind him, who cautious began lowering their hoods and removing their cloaks.

Remus' mouth dropped in shock, eyes widening as he took a small step back.

"Mrs. Malfoy? Draco?"

Harry coughed in embarrassment, "er yeah. It's a long story."

Remus eyed the two in shock, mind barely able to register their presence. Suddenly, a bundle in Draco's arms moved and a small arm appeared. Harry flushed, eyeing the small…_baby_ intently.

"Harry…" Remus began slowly as a small blonde head appeared, followed by startling green eyes. "What's going on?"

Narcissa Malfoy smirked, eyeing Harry almost predatorily.

"Ah…well…" Harry stumbled. "It's like this - I…well not _me_ personally… okay so it - I mean - well…"

"Oh for gods sake, Potter!" Draco finally snapped. "This," the pale young teen gestured to the small babe in his arms. "Is Tristan. Tristan Sirius Potter Malfoy. And yes," Draco continued smugly, "he _is_ Harry's and my child."

Remus stared in shock for the space of two seconds, before events caught up to him and fell away in a dead faint.

**-x-x-**

"Well, that went well." Draco remarked dryly.

He was holding on to a suddenly antsy Tristan and divided his attention between his restless son and the sprawled figure of Remus Lupin.

Harry sighed, shooting him a venomous glare.

"You could have broken the news a _bit_ more gently." He muttered.

Draco scoffed. "Please, Potter. There's no way to _gently_ break **this** news. We," he pointed at the two of them, "have a _child_ together. If you know a way to sugar-coat that, please be my guest. Otherwise I don't think your _eloquent_ stumbling is going to work."

Harry glared again, to which Draco replied with a rather flat glare. There was no use getting upset over the blatantly obvious. This wasn't your average, every day occurrence. In case it had failed to catch Potter's short attention, the Malfoys had left, quite abruptly he might add, everything they knew behind them, and joined the other-side. When the press caught wind of that (although they probably already knew, what with the ruined remains of their manor smoldering for all the world to see), they were going to have a field day.

"I just - you know what, never mind." The dark-haired teen muttered. Draco sniffed delicately, sending the still antsy Tristan a victorious smile.

"See, Tristan. Logic wins over pure stupidity every time." He whispered. Harry shot him another dark look, knowing without actually hearing, that Draco had said something disparaging about him.

"Do you plan on leaving him there all afternoon, Potter?" Narcissa asked. Her voice did not contain its usual venom, but there was a condescending edge there all the same. Draco sighed. _I hope Father gets here soon. Mother is such a bitch without him._

"No." Harry snapped. Taking out his wand and whispering a soft _ennervate_, Draco watched as Remus Lupin snapped awake, blinking owlishly at the ceiling.

"I - er - Harry!"

"Er…Hey Remus. I don't suppose you - uh - remember…anything?"

Lupin nodding, rubbing gently at the back of his head. Draco imagined the spot was rather soft, considering the sound it'd made as he'd landed.

"Yes." Lupin muttered. His eyes flickered toward Draco and his mother, nostrils flaring. Draco tensed in anticipation, grip tightening on Tristan protectively. The man _was_ a bloody werewolf after all.

"So…this is your…son?"

Harry nodded, eyes flickering to Tristan. Obviously aware that people were speaking about him, he twisted in Draco's grasp, reaching for Harry. Sighing, Draco walked towards the kneeling boy and handed him to Harry, careful to avoid touching Lupin.

He glared at Harry, silently conveying that the werewolf was _not_ to touch their son. He sincerely hoped the bespectacled boy got the message, or else.

"How - how old is he?"

Draco scoffed silently. The man was _obviously_ still in shock as he kept staring between Harry and himself widely, and _still _sat on the floor!

"Seven months," Harry murmured. "He was born in February."

"Ah." Lupin quietly remarked. Finally, the older man began to stand, Harry following him as well.

"I - would you guys like any tea?" Lupin asked.

His mother nodded, looking about herself with a small smile. "If you do not mind," she begin in a voice that clearly showed she didn't care either way. "I'll take a look around while you prepare the tea."

Lupin nodded as he moved towards what Draco could _only_ suspect was the kitchen. In this dingy place, Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to do any _exploring_, and opted to stay with Potter and Lupin. At least _they_ could provide him with some sort of entertainment. Plus, he could keep an eye on Tristan and Potter. There was no way he would leave his son with the likes of a werewolf.

They entered the less than hospitable kitchen silently, each lost to their own thoughts. Draco idly wondered how the rest of Potter's…friends would take the news. He was especially anxious to see the little Weaslette's face.

"Draco, do you have his high chair?" Potter muttered towards him.

Silently, Draco enlarged Tristan's bag, taking out the shrunken form of his high chair. Unshrinking it, he also brought out a small bowl of green…mush. It was Tristan's favorite, though Draco could not see the appeal. He had tried it once, and it had an odd vitamin-y taste to it, that made Draco's taste buds scream. _To each their own,_ he thought as Potter set the suddenly interested child down.

"Somebody knows it's feeding time…" Draco muttered as he quickly spooned a bit of the marsh towards Tristan. Giggling, the child made a grab for the spoon, pulling it towards his mouth.

Draco chuckled softly. He was half-aware of the other two watching him, but couldn't quite be arsed to care. He was feeding his child, there was no need to make a spectacle of it.

As if they could read his thoughts, Lupin and Potter turned towards each other and began a quiet conversation. Draco ignored them. As far as _he_ was concerned, they were only going to be at this…Headquarters for another two or three days. After that, he was holding Potter to his promise to leave.

"Ahh! Ahh!" Tristan said, trying to draw Draco's attention.

"Sorry." Draco muttered. He had paused in his feeding, so wrapped up in his own thoughts was he.

When Tristan was finished eating, Draco turned towards Potter expectantly. Lupin and he had obviously finished their conversation and were now watching him.

"Well…?" Draco demanded.

"Well, what?" Potter asked.

"I sincerely hope you don't plan on leaving us to sleep in this kitchen Potter." He drawled. "Where are our rooms?"

"Room." Lupin remarked. "It has been decided that you and Harry would benefit from sharing. I don't believe either of you wish to be parted from Tristan."

Draco sighed. Somehow, he expected this.

"Okay. Where is our _room_?"

Potter sighed in longsuffering, shooting Remus an undeterminable look.

"Come on, I'll show you."

**-o-o-**

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Draco sat in the middle of the floor, in between the two beds they would be occupying. Tristan lay on his back giggling, hands reaching towards the flying figures of his plush dragons. Harry watched him with a soft smile. He wondered if he had ever been so…free as a child. He couldn't remember a time when some burden or another hadn't weighted down his shoulders, whether it was the Dursley's or otherwise.

"Potter, stop brooding." Came Draco's drawl. "It's not as if this house needs any further depressing."

The blonde teenagers flicked a hand through his hair, leaning back on his elbows as he surveyed the room.

"I'm not brooding." Harry replied calmly.

Draco shot him a look of incredulity. "I see, so this is you _cheerful_? I find that hard to believe."

Harry said nothing, eyes moving to the half-cleaned window of their room. Outside, the sky was bright and full of thick, fluffy clouds. It was a good day to fly.

"Let's go outside." Harry suddenly said.

"What?" Came Draco's response.

"Outside! Come on, when was the last time Tristan played outside?"

Draco sent him a blank, somewhat confused stare. "Well…never, I would guess but wh-"

He was cut off as Harry suddenly lept to his feet and leaned over him. With deft movements, Harry grabbed both of Draco's hands and pulled him to his feet, nearly knocking them both over with the force behind his tug. Tristan watched them curiously, flying dragons forgotten, as they tried to catch themselves.

Once balanced, Harry turned and bent to pick Tristan up, planting a large wet kiss on his cheek.

"Potter! Just whe-"

"Come _on_, Draco. Let's go."

Grabbing the reluctant blonde by the wrist, Harry tugged him towards the door and down the stairs. They passed a rather startled Remus on the first floor, who shot them a quizzical stare.

"We're going outside," Harry said at the same time Draco muttered, "I'm being manhandled _and_ kidnapped."

Remus, amber eyes twinkling, simply nodded and carried on.

Pushing through the back door, Harry took a deep breath of fresh air, relishing in the bright sun and crisp wind. It had been raining for most of the summer, and it was a real pleasure to see a bright day.

Behind him, Draco grumbled about sun-burns and freckles, but Harry paid him no mind. He had always known Draco was a vain person, so it was easy to ignore his rather narcissistic mutterings in the face of such a brilliant day.

He wasn't quite sure where the urge to come outside came from, but as he stood on a slightly raise hill, overlooking the rolling green planes of the Grimmauld neighborhood, Harry couldn't say that he regretted it.

In his arms, Tristan was silent. His too-green eyes took in the sky, sun and greenery with a child-like glee that Harry found endearing. It was easy, he realized, to view everything as something new and innocent when you were a child. To see the good in any and all things.

"Have you gotten your fill of fresh air?" Draco asked.

Harry ignored him, only belatedly realizing that he was still holding onto the other boy's wrist.

"Look, Tristan. A swallow."

Harry pointed out the small brown bird as best he could, for some reason unwilling to let go of Draco's wrist.

"And look there, that's a gnome."

The small creature rushed back into the bushes, before Tristan could get a proper look at him.

"We'll catch one for you later," he whispered to his child.

Draco scoffed, having come to stand beside him. With a sigh, Draco gently extricated his wrist from Harry's grasp and, after summoning a blanket, sat down.

"Do you plan on standing all day?" He asked Harry. Harry shrugged.

"I think I'm going to walk around for a bit."

With a shrug, Draco laid down and closed his eyes.

Harry eyed him for the space of four and a half seconds before shaking his head and walking away. In the stillness of noon, Harry spoke to Tristan. Little things at first, before he began speaking of the people he knew and the things he done.

"…and when you go to Hogwarts," Harry was saying, "you'll get to meet Nearly Headless Nick. He's the Gryffindor ghost. The staircases move, and the portraits talk. The hallways are filled with magic, and there is _always_ a feast for every meal." A soft smile crossed his face then.

He had walked the length of the backyard twice, and Tristan was dozing in his arms. Making his way back to Draco, he found the Slytherin asleep on his blanket. Harry snorted. _I think Malfoy's have a sleeping disorder_, he thought. Settling in beside him, Harry lay Tristan between them, softly stroking his curls.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Draco drawled, obviously not as asleep as Harry had thought.

"I did, as a matter of fact. I told Tristan all about Hogwarts."

Draco made a soft sound in the back of his throat, a small smile crossing his features.

"What was your first impression of Hogwarts?" The blonde suddenly asked. Harry grinned.

"Huge. My first impression was that it was bloody_ huge_!"

Draco laughed, "my first impression…I thought it was beautiful. All those lights and towers." He shrugged, eyes still closed.

Harry watched him silently. He had known this boy for the better part of almost seven years and yet…he didn't know anything about him at all. What was it that made Draco Malfoy who he was? Was he more than just another rich, pureblooded snob? He had seen snatches of something more…something decent in the last couple of days, and it was startling realization that Harry actually _wanted_ to know more about him. _Well, we will be spending the rest of our lives in some sort of close proximity to the other_…he reasoned. But even as he thought it, the excuse sounded feeble to his ears.

"Draco! Potter!"

Harry pulled himself from his musings at the sound of Narcissa's voice. Sighing, he gently picked up Tristan and nudge Draco with a foot.

"If you pretend like you didn't hear her…" Draco muttered, "she might go away."

Harry laughed, rising to stand. "I doubt it, come on lets go before she comes out here."

Sighing, Draco stood, banishing their blanket. "You're horrible Potter. Just horrible."

With a shake of his head Draco left, leaving behind a softly smiling Harry in his wake.

**-e-**

**An: **Sorry for such a long wait! This chapter is mostly filler, just to get our characters where they need to be!

THANKS so much for all the reviews! They really helped to motivate me and kick my ass into gear! With the thanksgiving break, I'll be able to get a head start on the upcoming chapters so we'll see an update much quicker than this last one! Thanks so much, again, for everyone who reviewed.

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I am not making any money off of this. I am doing this purely for my own entertainment…and hopefully because others enjoy reading this!**

**Warnings: Slash! Mild gore. **

**Story Notes:** For the purposes of this story, Lucius Malfoy has been released from Azkaban. =]. Enjoy!

**Summary: **Harry Potter never envisioned having kids, hell he didn't even know if he would live long enough to dream about them. Unfortunately for him, Fate has different plans and when Draco Malfoy appears on his doorstep with a seventh month old baby claiming to be theirs well…things get a bit…interesting.

**THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! ENJOY!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND NEW YEAR!**

* * *

_Requiem for a Dream_

**Chapter Four**

**-o-4-o-**

"Wipe."

"Beside you, left corner."

"Powder."

"Here."

"Fresh diaper?"

A sigh sounded throughout the room. "Right beside you, Potter." The voice was wryly amused. A snort followed in response.

"Well what outfit do you want to put him in today?"

Draco ran a critical eye over the three outfits laying on the side of the elegant changing table. Below the two, Tristan lay with a large grin, feet held in both hands as he gurgled happily. Harry sent him a funny face, causing Draco to roll his eyes. Sometimes he wondered about Potter's sanity.

"Well," he began. The Weasleys were coming today. He wanted Tristan to look good…but not too formal. "I suppose the dark khakis and green button down you picked out is fine."

Harry grinned and Draco rolled his eyes again. It was unnerving really, how comfortable he was becoming with Potter. He had actually slipped, several times in the last two days, and called the green-eyed bugger Harry. The responding grin that blossomed across his face each time, sometimes made it worth it, and that unnerved Draco more than he was willing to say.

"Your father _does_ have some sense after all, Tristan."

Draco scoffed. Potter cracking jokes about his common sense seemed a bit oxymoronic.

"Let's go, Potter. The Weasley's will be here in an hour and I want to have something in my stomach before them. Maybe a Firewhiskey will do it…"

Harry grabbed Tristan, rolling his eyes. Draco ignored him and left their room. While the place was slowly being remodeled, it was still a gloomy home. Grimmauld, Draco was sure, could be beautiful if someone would simply take the time to re-model it.

Idly, and with more than a little pang of sorrow, Draco wondered what was to become of his family. He knew with certainty that his father was still alive, but for how long? Where were he and his mother to go? Sure there were several Malfoy family homes they could go to, but none in Britain. And what, most importantly, were they to do about Potter? He was, _technically_, family now.

The arrived in the kitchen quietly, moving automatically as they set up Tristan's high chair and began feeding him his mush. Draco sat beside Harry, leaning on his elbows as he watched the green-eyed wizard slowly and playfully spoon a bit of peas and carrot into Tristan's eager mouth. He was making soft 'choo-choo' sounds, and while Draco thought it utterly…plebian, he couldn't quite bring himself to rebuke him. Especially since Tristan was giggling happily.

"Draco…" Harry whispered softly. Draco ignored him, and the odd shiver that hearing his name whispered by the Wizarding world's savior induced.

"Draco," he said again, firmer. Setting down Tristan's feeding spoon (much to the small babe's chagrin), Harry faced Draco with a frown. "What's wrong with you? You've been too…quiet all morning."

"It's nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Potter."

He sighed, running a hand through already ragged hair. Draco could have said something about the bedraggled look of his erstwhile enemy but simply slumped a little further in his seat and stared down at his heads.

To be truthful, he was feeling more than a little homesick, and the upcoming meeting with the Weasley's did not help matters. His mother had been acting strange ever since they'd stepped foot into this house, and he couldn't quite bring himself to intrude in what obviously was a nostalgic moment for her, no matter how _long_ this moment was lasting. He figured in the absence of her husband and home, his mother filled the worrying silence with remembrance.

This of course only left him with Potter and Tristan for company. Though it wasn't as bad as he'd once imagined, Draco wasn't sure that he quite liked the…change. Or rather, he was worried about how _easily_ he'd accepted and grown used to Potter's company.

"Is it the Weasley's?"

Draco turned his pale gaze onto the bronze youth before him. He sighed. There was that stubborn set of the jaw that let Draco know Potter wouldn't be letting go of this line of questioning anytime soon.

"No Potter…I just…miss home, I guess."

The frown deepened into one of concern and it took all Draco had not to snap that he didn't want Potter's pity.

He sat waiting for…something other than silence, and finally had to look at Potter when it continued to stretch. He was feeding Tristan again, his movement slow and green eyes dark.

"I could say that I know how that feels…but I'd be lying. I've never actually had a home that I could miss. Or one that I remember at least." His voice was low and quiet. Slow.

Draco tilted his head, listening intently. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to loose his parents at the age of fifteen months…nor could he quite imagine what it would be like to grow up without a _home_.

"The most I can say is that you should be grateful your parents are alive and…that you still have that." He shrugged, as if pulling himself from a reverie.

Draco looked away. He understood Potter's words, could in some way he suppose, see that his situation was not as bad as it could be. But that did not dull the sting that losing his home caused. There were memories there that he could never get back. Photographs and items of his childhood that, no matter how much he may wish he could never retrieve. How many things would he have wished to pass on to Tristan? Stories he would have liked to tell his son while viewing the family photo album?

He sighed, leaning back. Yes, he was still alive, but he felt as if his childhood had been swept away in the flames.

**-o-o-**

Harry watched Draco out of the corner of his eye. Over the past couple of days he had picked up Draco's moods and body language very easily. He realized, rather belatedly, that he had been watching the other boy for _years_ and probably knew Draco's habits better than he himself did. For all of that, however, he was at a lost of what to say.

Luckily, Tristan chose that moment to begin squirming. Immediately, his little, chubby arms reached out for Draco and the boy snapped out of his sulk.

"What is it, Tristan?" Draco whispered softly as he dragged his son to his chest.

Harry set aside Tristan's food as he watched the two interact. Moments like these, Draco showed tenderness none would have believed capable of the once unflappable youth. Though it should not have much of a shock, Harry suddenly realized that Draco _was_ human and that realization was like a slap to the face.

"Tristan?"

Snapping out of his trance-like state, Harry moved to stand behind Draco, peering at his son with narrowed eyes.

Face scrunched up in what appeared to be horrific pain, Tristan was twisting about in Draco's robes, alternately gripping him tightly and pushing him away.

"What's _wrong_ with him?!" Harry nearly shrieked. He began to panic when Tristan finally made a sound.

Screaming filled the kitchen and Harry very nearly screamed himself so startled was he by the sound.

"Draco! Draco, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't bloody well know, Potter!"

Harry growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

"Here, give him to me."

"What? Why? We don't even know what's wrong with him!" The two were shouting at each other, trying to be heard over the din of Tristan's screams. Harry, hands held out for the babe, was red-faced and scared, lips drawn into a thin line.

"I know that!" He snapped. "Give him to me and warm up his milk. You know I can't get the temperature right yet."

Draco let loose what Harry thought was a huff and had shifted Tristan, preparing to hand him over when several things happened at once.

The kitchen suddenly filled with a gaggle of red-heads in fighting stance, wands out and at the ready. Tristan suddenly went limp, just as a red _Stupefy_ hastily shouted was sent flying towards Draco's back and Ginny Weasley rushed forward and grabbed the blonde, unconscious babe just as Draco began to fall.

Ron stood slightly ahead of his family, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he eyed Draco's prone form and finally, Harry snapped.

Emotions on high, Harry felt the wall of worry he felt for Tristan nearly eclipsed by the worry he felt for Draco and sudden anger he held towards Ron. A feeling of fierce protectiveness rose within his chest like a roaring lion and it was all he could do not to rip Tristan from Ginny's arms.

"Harry! What's going on?" It was Hermione. Harry didn't question why she had arrived with the Weasley's; his mind was still too focused on protecting Tristan and Draco.

"Ginny," Harry began. His voice came out in a low, near-hiss, harsh and colder than he had ever heard in his life, "Give me the baby."

"W-what?" She asked. The others were looking at him oddly, confused by his voice and stance. Without realizing it, Harry had slid into one of the defensive positions Moody had drilled into him last year. His wand was still upstairs and as he watched the Weasley's watch him, Harry realized that he might have to summon it.

"What's going on Harry? What the hell is he doing here…and what was he doing to that kid?!"

Harry noted that several members of the Order were hovering on the edge of the kitchen, wands out and wary. This was not the way he would have wanted people to find out, and the fact that his once best friend stood glaring at him accusingly did not help matters at all.

"What the hell are you talking about Ron? He wasn't doing _anything_ to Tristan and what did you _curse_ him for?!" Harry snapped. He could feel his magic rising and knew that if things continued the way they did, something very bad would happen. Apparently Molly realized this as well because she began clearing her throat.

"Harry dear," Molly began softly. Harry noted the glint in her eye and bristled. She was going to treat him like a child again. "Why don't you calm down and tell us what's going on, hmm?"

Harry relaxed, deciding to take a different approach. Copying Draco's nonchalant poise, he leaned back against the counter and took a deep breath. His eyes flickered to Draco's prone from and another bolt of anger lanced through him. He took another steadying breath. _I'd better wake Draco after this, _he thought as he eyed the angry visages of Ron and several others.

"I'm as calm as I'm going to get Mrs. Weasley." He finally, flatly replied.

Without looking at anyone else, Harry quickly approached and held out his arms for Tristan. Ginny backed away, looking at her mother who was shaking her head.

Harry felt his anger rise past the breaking point until he was floating in a haze of icy rage. Molly moved forward, gently taking Tristan into her arms.

"What are you doing?" Harry snapped. His temper was getting handily out of control and though he was glad to see the Weasley's he did not appreciate them attacking Draco or keeping his son from him. He moved, standing over Draco as he eyed his surrogate family angrily.

"Harry," Molly began voice stern. "We are s-"

Harry felt her before he heard her, and was glad he did for Narcissa Malfoy swept into the room in a flurry of elegancy and icy magic. Literally. The temperature in the kitchen dropped and Harry was almost positive the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling had iced over.

"_What is going on here_!?" Narcissa snapped. Harry flinched despite himself as she came to stand beside him. Her voice was like a whip, sharp and painfully dangerous. Placing a hand on his shoulder, (a sight that did not go unnoticed as everyone present flinched and tensed) she flicked her wand towards Draco and with a quick _Ennervate_, bid the suddenly awake boy to stand.

Harry watched him out the corner of his eye, feeling relieved when Draco's grey eyes snapped to the Weasley's with a look of utmost hatred. Too angry to care _why_ that relived him, Harry turned his full attention back to Mrs. Weasley, who was looking at the Malfoys with supreme distaste. In fact, every occupant, other than Harry, looked at the Malfoys with distaste, hatred or disgust. Harry bristled.

"Narcissa." Molly said coolly.

"Spare me your fake pleasantries." Narcissa snapped. She took a step forward, wand out and everyone in the room seemed to surge with her, wands all pointing at either her or Draco or, surprisingly, Harry. Harry noted with surprise that several Order members had arrived, and were currently standing at the back entrance to the kitchen.

Narcissa seemed either supremely unconcerned or unaware. Her eyes blazed and, with a shiver, Harry noticed that temperature in the room dropped yet again. Draco moved to stand beside him, hand brushing against his shoulder. Harry turned to him slightly, and Draco looked at him, a question burning in his eyes.

Harry shrugged. He _still_ wasn't quite sure what was going on.

"Pray tell," Narcissa drawled in a rather scary, feminine imitation of Lucius Malfoy. "Why you have my grandson in your arms, _bleeding_!" The last word was said in a dangerous hiss and it looked as if Narcissa wanted nothing more than to shove her wand into Molly's throat and end her life right then.

Harry gasped. He had _not_ been aware of Tristan _bleeding_. Beside him, Draco tensed.

Harry could barely resist the urge to grab his son and run straight to St. Mungos. Instead, he stood tensely as everyone silently and not so silently digested this information.

"Your - your _what_?" Molly breathlessly asked.

Narcissa looked as if she were going to rip Molly Weasley to shreds.

"My _grandson_! If you do not unhand him this _instant_ so help me, Morgana, I will have your _head_!"

Harry would have groaned if he could. The room grew infinitely tenser as all Weasley men and Ginny suddenly flushed with fury and took a step forward. Immediately, Draco moved to his mother's side, eyes intent upon his son.

Ron sneered at Draco, wand shaking from the force of his anger. He stepped closer and then faltered.

Harry, clearly having left his common sense behind, had moved to stand beside Draco. He could have stopped there, but the bloody roaring lion in his chest did not abate until he placed his hand upon Draco's shoulder and raised his wand hand. Near instantly, his wand smacked into his hand, summoned from upstairs.

Dimly, he was aware of the looks of near-betrayal that crossed the Weasley's, Hermione, and most of the Order member's faces. However, at the moment they had his son and he'd be _damned_ if he allowed them to hurt him or Draco or Narcissa for that matter. He had promised himself that his son would grow up with _both_ parents, and if he knew Ron's temper like he knew he did, he was aware of the very serious danger the tall red head presented to the, by comparison, smaller Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing Harry?" The red-head snarled in a low voice.

"Protecting a friend." Harry snapped back. Ron paled in anger, wand still trained on Draco's still figure.

Draco shifted nervously under his hand and leaned towards his body. Harry knew then that things would be forever changed.

"I believe we can settle this in a more…civilized way if everyone would simply calm down."

Harry sighed in relief as Remus appeared beside him, placing his own hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding on everyone's part. If we could head upstairs to the drawing room, I believe we can…rectify that."

Though still tense, many of the Order members began to leave the kitchen, heading upstairs to the drawing room. Harry stood still, eyes on Tristan's still figure.

"Ah, Mrs. Weasley. If you could hand young Tristan to Harry here, I believe we can follow the rest of the Order." Remus muttered.

Molly looked more than a little confused and wary as she slowly handed Tristan to Harry.

For his part, Harry gently cradled Tristan to his chest; worry spiking as he marked the blood coming from Tristan's nose and ears. Draco appeared beside him, hand resting shakily on the small babes back. Harry looked at the other boy, and a moment of unspoken communication ran between them.

The Weasley's slowly exited the room, each eyeing the Malfoys with something akin to hatred as the filed out. Remus shook his head.

"Well, that could have gone better."

Harry snorted. "Remus, if you and Mrs. Malfoy could…explain the situation to the rest of the Order…Draco and I are going to St. Mungos."

"What happened?" Remus asked.

Harry sighed, running a free hand through his hair. Draco swiftly scooped Tristan into his arms and walked to the counter. Laying him down gently, the blond haired boy quickly checked their son's pulse and breathing.

"We're not sure. We were doing fine when Tristan began screaming. Draco was holding onto him and we were yelling at each other just so that we could be heard over the screams. I'd told Draco to hand Tristan to me so that he could make his milk; I can't quite get the formula down just yet, when the Weasley's came and attacked." Here, Harry's voice spiked in anger. "I can't believe Ron did that! What if Ginny hadn't grabbed Tristan before Draco fell! What then!?"

It was, surprisingly, Narcissa who placed a calming hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Perhaps it would be best if you and Draco not attend this…meeting. St. Mungos is not an option either." She turned towards Draco. "You remember our private healer?"

Draco nodded absently, his wand hovering over Tristan's still form. Harry watched curiously as the tip of Draco's wand glowed red right around the moment it passed over his small blond head.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked anxiously as he moved to stand beside Draco.

"That something's wrong…I just don't know _what_." Draco murmured.

"We need to go. Private healer you say, Mrs. Malfoy?"

She nodded. "Draco knows the address."

Remus sighed. "We'll explain the situation as best we can. You two hurry and are careful."

"We'll be fine, Remus. Where is this Healer?"

"France."

"_France_!?" Harry snapped incredulously.

Narcissa nodded. "His floo is always open so it shouldn't be a problem. Hurry now."

With one last incredulous look, Harry quickly followed Draco who was already moving and rushed up the stairs. Luckily, everyone was already in the Drawing room on the second floor, so it was only a matter of moments that Draco and Harry were rushing away in emerald flames towards France.

**-x-x-**

Miles away, Lord Voldemort calmly watched the now still waters of a pure silver cauldron. A frown marred his features as he stirred the cauldron once more. Frustrated, he threw the obsidian stirring utensil with a growl and called for Wormtail.

"You said this potion would _work_." He hissed. The man cowered before him, watery eyes downcast and pudgy fingers ringing together nervously.

"I-It is perfect, my Lord! Perfect!"

Voldemort sneered, raising his wand. With a near negligent flick of his wrist, Voldemort sent the little, cowering man into a screaming fit of pain.

Minutes later, he released the curse he peered down his nose at the heap of shivering waste named Peter Pettigrew.

"Tell me then, Wormtail, if this potion works as well as you claim, why I was not able to see or _do_ anything!?"

Wormtail slowly stood on shaky legs. He struggled to speak several times before Voldemort's impatience spiked and he sent the man to his knees once more, screaming under the weight and power of a _Crucio_.

"Well!?" Voldemort snapped as he lifted the curse.

"M-my-my…" Wormtail gasped, fingers clutching at his throat as he thrashed from the after effects. Voldemort snarled, and the little man quickly tried again.

"T-the ch-ch-child, m-my lord!"

"What about him?" Voldemort hissed, impatience and anger growing by leaps and bounds.

"He - He is far stronger than-than we thought."

His eyes glowed red as he moved to stand. "You will correct this, Wormtail or I will have your heart! Do you understand me!?"

"Yes my lord." Pettigrew croaked.

"Then move!"

Scurrying through the pain, Peter Pettigrew gathered the cauldron to himself and began anew.

**-x-x-**

White. Everywhere. White walls, white flowers, white couches, white desks and white books.

It was nauseating and did nothing to calm Draco's nerves as he paced the small waiting room of Lenoir's Private Practice. Though he knew the measurements by hard (thirteen paces from one end to the other) counting his steps helped to ease the worry and tension coalescing just beneath his present sneer.

Settled in one of the white couches Harry looked as casually as if this were a simple check-up but Draco knew the signs. His fingers drummed incessantly against one torn jean-clad knee, and his back was perfectly straight, a posture Potter never took unless he was unrestrainedly nervous. And Potter was nervous. Well, he actually seemed more on the verge of a panic attack.

"Do you think he's alright?" He asked for the fifth time since their arrival. Draco sighed. He would have snapped at the other boy if he didn't know exactly what he was feeling. As it were, he wasn't particularly interested in fighting with him at the moment anyway.

"I don't know Potter."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Definitely agitated.

"Damn but the Weasley's have bad timing." He muttered. Draco snorted. There were _plenty_ of things wrong with the Weasley's, their timing only the least of which. Besides which, Draco had a definite bone to pick with the youngest son, and the rest of them better damn well hope there was enough of Ron bloody Weasley left for them to put back together.

"I'm sorry about Ron." Harry murmured, as if he had read Draco's mind. Draco faltered in his pacing, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Whether Harry realized it or not he had, in the Weasley's eyes, picked the Malfoy's over them. He didn't know if Harry realized that his situation back at Grimmauld Place would be, at best, a frosty reception. In fact, they would be lucky if they didn't arrive to a welcome at wand point.

"Nothing you could have done about it…" He murmured quickly. He didn't know if he would ever get used to Harry's odd…kindness. Especially in regards to him. Despite their somewhat truce last year, they had still been nothing but civil enemies, at the very most.

"Sometimes I just wish he would - " The black-haired teen made a sound of frustration, running his hand through his hair again. Draco shifted uncomfortably. He was not used to people pouring out their emotions to him. Especially this _someone_. He didn't know what he would do if Harry all of sudden began opening up and detailing his life to him. Even if a small part of him wanted the other boy to.

Thankfully, Harry changed the subject.

"Anyway, are you alright?"

Draco shrugged. "It was a rather weak stunner, Potter. I'm not some fragile damsel in distress."

To his surprise, rather than get mad and defend his friends wizardry skills, Potter snorted a laugh and winked at him.

"I can't imagine you in a dress, let along waiting in some tower waiting for a rescue, Draco. I just wanted to know if you were feeling alright. You did wake up in a rather…awkward situation."

It was Draco's turn to snort. "That's one way of putting it." He murmured. "I'm fine Potter, just…worried." He'll never know what possessed him to say that, but since it was out there, Draco simply shrugged it off as pressure making him talk. It also helped that it turned his mind away from previous events. Including Harry's rather rash decision to jump to his side against the Weasel and declare him friend. He would not analyze the emotions _that_ induced. Ever.

"So I am…" Harry sighed, tugging at his hair.

"Stop that! It's a mess as it is, you don't need to make it any worse." Draco snapped. Plus, anymore tugging and the Gryffindor idiot was sure to go bald!

"Sorry," Harry muttered distractedly. He did stop pulling at his hair however. Only to end up tugging at the frayed end of his tattered t-shirt. With a sneer, Draco pushed off the wall and shook his head.

He began his pacing anew.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev-_.

"Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?" They both chimed as one. Harry was up in a flash, settling next to Draco with a thrum of restless energy.

"Ah, I'm Healer Lenoir. I believe you dropped young Tristan into the capable hands of my assistant, Mrs. Deveroux?"

Harry nodded while Draco simply stared at the dopey old man with a frown. They _knew_ who had taken Tristan from them, what they _wanted_ to know was what happened to their child!

"Ah. Well, suffice to say young Tristan suffered quite the shock. Seemed he was under a bit of undue stress…" Healer Lenoir paused, licking his lips nervously. "You see, he shows all the classic signs of someone fighting off a…possession."

Draco choked. His vision narrowed even as he felt the air in his lungs leave him in one fell swoop. He rocked unsteadily on his feet, grabbing for the nearest thing and finding Harry there with a comforting hand. He could _hear_ his heart thudding in his chest as the Healer's words spun themselves round and round and round inside his head.

_Fighting off a possession…fighting off a possession._

"…own! Sir! Please calm down!"

Draco snapped to awareness as he felt Harry's hand tightened painfully on his arm. All around him, the neat little white office was being spun into chaos. With clarity, Draco knew the cause and looked to his left to find Harry standing in a battle stance, eyes closed as he struggled with himself. His magic, Draco noted with wonder, spilled out of him in waves.

Healer Lenoir along with his receptionist, were backing away slowly, their eyes wide and limbs trembling. They looked from Draco to Harry and back again obviously at a lose as to what to do. Apparently, they had no training when it came to magical outburst of this degree.

"Potter!" Draco snapped, forcing himself to stand before the other boy. "Potter! Damnit snap out of it! You're going to hurt Tristan if you keep going on like this!"

Harry's face screwed up tightly, mouth pressed into a furiously thin line. Draco shook the other boy roughly, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as hard as he could.

"Potter! Damnit Harry calm _down_!"

Slowly, things began to settle almost imperceptibly.

"That's right! Think of Tristan," Draco murmured now, eyeing the surrounding destruction cautiously. Finally, Harry slumped forward into Draco, causing the other teen to stumble.

Grumbling to himself, Draco dragged Harry to the nearest sofa and gently lay him down.

"Give him a few minutes," he murmured to the trembling wizards behind him.

Healer Lenoir disappeared, returning seconds later with a vial.

"A pepper-up. I imagine he'll have a bit of trouble getting his footing after that." The little man looked around his office in something akin to awe. Draco snorted, accepting the potion and placing it in his pocket.

"My son?" He prompted, as the man continued to stare about him.

"Oh! Right, right."

Draco sneered, piercing the Healer with a glare.

"He - uh - should be fine for now. It's amazing really, that he was able to fight off the foreign invasion at such an age. Though considering who his father's are, it really should be no surprise."

Draco gave the man another icy glare, hand inching towards his wand as he stepped closer to the Healer.

"And we are assured of your silence on our presence? On Tristan's very existence?"

Lenoir nodded vigorously. "Healer-Patient confidentiality. I cannot speak, even under the influence of Veritaserum."

Giving him one last sneer, Draco nodded. "Good. Now give me my son."

Without waiting for a reply, Draco turned to Harry and cast a quick _Ennervate_, the pepper-up potion already in hand.

**-e-**

**AN: **_Another extremely long wait for the chapter, I know. I do apologize. Life sort of kicked my ass for a while there. Hope you enjoyed! Please review!_


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